


Lex Talionis

by lostchildofthenewworld



Series: The Sun & The Light [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Aegon and Rhaenys Targaryen Live, Aerys Is His Own Warning, Alternate Universe - Crack, BAMF Elia Martell, BAMF Jaime Lannister, BAMF Oberyn Martell, Bloodbending, Canon Divergence - Robert's Rebellion, Crack Treated Seriously, Elia Martell Deserves Better, Elia Martell Fanworks Week, Elia Martell Lives, Elia Martell Needs a Hug, Elia Martell-centric, Elia is getting shit done- PERIOD, F/M, Isekai, Jaime Lannister Needs a Hug, Jaime Lannister Redemption, Lyanna Stark Bashing, Lyanna Stark Lives, Morally Grey Elia Martell, No Twincest, Not a long fic chapter wise but it is juicy, Queen Elia Martell, Rating for Mature Themes, Reincarnation, Rhaegar Targaryen Bashing, Rhaegar Targaryen Lives, Rhoynar Water Magic, SI/OC, Self Insert Weekend, Self-Insert, Waterbending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-13
Updated: 2020-08-31
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:28:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 37,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25872880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lostchildofthenewworld/pseuds/lostchildofthenewworld
Summary: Two women died, one on a cold marble floor and another strewn across a bed with her son's blood covering her. Lady Fortuna has sown those two souls together with a red string, from two separate entities they became one.OrOn one side of the string is Ryan Johnson, a young Black woman who died before she really got the hang of life; on the other end of the string is Elia Nymeros Martell who died unjustly and cruelly, her children never growing up. As Fate intervenes, two souls become one, and a new entity is born.OrA tale as old as time, a princess and a white knight.OrA Black SIOC who inhabits Elia's body (and also happened to have been a fan of ASIOAF & GoT) and decides that she'll be taking a page out of Margaret Beaufort's book and goes for the throne. Jaime is along for the ride because he's tired of mad kings and idiotic princes.
Relationships: Doran Martell & Elia Martell & Oberyn Martell, Doran Martell/Mellario of Norvos, Elia Martell & Jaime Lannister, Elia Martell & Rhaella Targaryen & Viserys Targaryen, Elia Martell & Tywin Lannister, Oberyn Martell/Cersei Lannister, Rhaegar Targaryen/Elia Martell (past), Rhaegar Targaryen/Lyanna Stark (minor-past), elia martell/jaime lannister
Series: The Sun & The Light [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1576054
Comments: 149
Kudos: 333
Collections: Elia Martell Creative Festivals, Elia Martell Fanworks Week, Southern Renaissance (Dorne Renaissance)





	1. Lady Fortuna & The Red String of Fate

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [A Snake in the Mists](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4735679) by [Ramzes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ramzes/pseuds/Ramzes). 
  * Inspired by [The Young King](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23652562) by [BannSee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BannSee/pseuds/BannSee). 



> I struggled with getting this first chapter done because I foolishly thought I should rehash everything, but I'm in a rush and want to get to the good stuff so I wrote it this way, with multiple time skips as we get a little background as to the new Elia, who has two souls sewn together, joining Ryan Johnson (SIOC) and Elia Martell together, creating someone new but familiar at the same time.
> 
> Ole' Margy Beaufort had the right of it when she said "fuck ya'll, ya'll aint bout to kill me or my son" and funded an army for her son so he could claim the throne in order to protect them. This is essentially what Elia is about to do. But with the annulment in play, I'm gonna swing for something new altogether so yeah, this is definitely crack but I wanted to write this so badly lol. I also think I'll age up Jaime (don't mind that, just go along with it, this is a crack fic okay! look at me! I'm the captain now and I say Jaime is 24 while Elia is 26, bite me just go with it okay?)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A woman plots, sewing together a web and the foundation for a new reign.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alas, here is some crack. Enjoy.
> 
> Song for this chapter: Excess by Tricky

“Lex talionis (Latin): the law of retaliation, whereby a punishment resembles the offense committed in kind and degree.”

When I lived my life as Ryan Johnson, I had lived it unapologetically. I died unapologetically too.

Ryan Johnson was a young Black woman who had taken the reigns of her life for her own the moment she got a taste of parental independence when she entered college. Her father told her parenthood was like shipbuilding; a parent raises their children and hope that all the effort that went into them would be rewarded when the children went off into the world and didn’t sink at the first scrape with an iceberg.

Ryan Johnson had _sailed_ , she thrived in the academic setting, because there was just so much to learn, so much to apply back into the real world.

It had been wonderful, until it wasn’t.

When her father died, God himself may as well had taken a knife and plunged it into her heart because sure, she was sailing in life but there was always the comfort of coming home, of sailing back to port and being welcomed when she did so.

Without her father, the world got a little darker, she became a little more jaded, more pessimistic because if a good man like her father could be killed senselessly then what about the rest of the world?

When Ryan Johnson died on the cold marble floor in a bank that was being robbed, it seemed like fate had been waiting for her. Her family used to joke that she was her father’s shadow and when she was bleeding out on the marble floor, she smiled when she thought about it. Seemed only fitting that she would follow her father so soon in death.

Maybe she loved her father too much, that even with her degree in psychology, she had not managed to grieve properly but she figured that was alright. If she got lucky in her next life, she could do it right, have more time with her dad because really their time together got cut too short, too fast.

But _I_ wasn’t Ryan Johnson now, no more than _I_ was Elia Nymeros Martell. I was something in between, a mother who loved her children, the same way a daughter had loved her father. I was a wife to an ungrateful asshole who had essentially played a hand in her dying, while before I had never given pause to romance because it seemed infantile.

I was something in between because I had died twice. Once as Ryan Johnson on a cold floor, and another as Elia Martell who died after seeing her children murdered and then was raped and butchered herself.

I think Lady Fortuna had been waiting, waiting for the both of us, for both Ryan and Elia to die before she hit reset, because that was the only way to describe what was happening now.

There is something to be said about righteous anger, not just anger but there’s a specific righteousness to it, an anger that dwells not just from Ryan’s sentiments because once again someone who didn’t deserve to die (in her humble opinion) was ruthlessly murdered; for Elia it had been to know she was murdered when she was no longer Rhaegar’s wife, she was no longer the Crown Princess – future Queen of the Seven Kingdoms – but just a Princess of Dorne with two bastard children, father – unknown.

So yes, that first spark of anger, a dual anger from both women that now make me, **_me_** has begun flowing in within my body like a current.

As one woman lay dead on cold marble floor, another woman in a another universe – a fictional one at that – laid almost split in half on a bed and those two souls had merged, with Lady Fortuna guiding them together, a red string of fate sewing the two women together until they became one entity, I.

I like to think that I got the best parts of both women and I hope fervently that when the time came, that all those who discounted them, discounted _us_ , would see how big of a mistake they made, because I was going to live unapologetically just as Ryan did, the way Elia never got to.

I was going to put my pragmatism to the test because I now lived in a feudalistic world where women were looked down upon and that, I did not like. No, I was going to take a page out of Margaret Beaufort’s book and seat my children on the throne, past Aerys, past Rhaegar. I see now that they do not deserve it, they don’t deserve to have people kneeling to them because all they have done is take and take and take and as a women, eventually we tire of being used and abused.

Anger, just as red as the blood flowing under my skin, just as red as the string of fate tying two women together pulsed throughout my body. It felt as though each pulse matched that of my heartbeat, as though I had two beating hearts, one for love and living, one that promised fury and death to those that crossed me.

It was fitting.

* * *

I got out of bed and stretched lazily as I looked around my room, before I changed into a pair of trousers and a tunic I had gotten from my uncle, Lewyn.

I needed to prepare this body, not just physically but mentally for what was to come and so early in the morning, I would rise before the sun and work-out and meditate. It served a dual purpose, a way to handle the grief and anger I carried from two separate entities and to strengthen myself for what I had recently discovered.

Water magic.

Water magic used by the Rhoynar long ago thought lost when Princess Nymeria fled Ny Sar out of fear of enslavement from the Valyrians.

It had been on accident when I discovered it, I had been sitting in the tub just weeks ago as I first started planning. For a moment, a foolish moment I had thought Rhaegar would change his mind, _almost_ hoped that he would see his folly, that he had a beautiful wife and two beautiful children, a daughter who was the sweetest thing, and a son, a son! (a son who I had gotten pregnant with quickly, barely out of bed rest from Rhaenys because I was needed to secure the Targaryen line btw!) But alas, Rhaegar left with Ser Oswell Whent and Ser Arthur Dayne (traitorous Dornish cunt, because all skinfolk ain’t kinfolk) that very morning when Ashara had come to tell me.

When she had spoken lowly in my ear, I had dismissed the maids and even Ashara wishing to be alone. I had gripped my hands into fists and then released it, waving my hand away as I drew them up to cradle my head when the water had moved of its own volition.

I had stared long after that, before I got out of the tub and tied a robe around me before I did it again, this time loosening my movements.

I had been infinitely pleased because Dragonstone was a place of gloom and despair. Discovering that I had this ability brought me such joy, that was only second to my children.

So, I practiced, remembering Katara from The Avatar the Last Airbender and I slowly learned within that year how to relax myself like a flowing river. It helped with my meditation also and so while Rhaegar was away trying to put a child into his lady love, I began working and networking, pulling my retinue closer especially my uncle Lewyn and best friend, Ashara.

There was a ominous presence that hung over Dragonstone as the year began to slowly turn into the new one, and I could feel it with each passing day as I sat with my children and watched the people around the fortress as they worked.

Rhaegar did not return and I did not expect him to, any sort of hope or spare thoughts slowly dwindled when I had received a secret raven from Lord Anders Yronwood about Rhaegar being spotted in the Boneway. The Warden of the Stone Way had been told not to do anything, not just with my order but also the order from Doran. The time had not come yet to act, and I was more than happy to know that when the time did arrive, when Rhaegar would be off at the Trident, I could capture Lyanna Stark before Eddard Stark came.

I had made many plans during the year as the time dwindled down, ravens sent secretly to Doran and from Doran to Oberyn who was still in Essos. When the time came, I knew that Aerys would threaten Lewyn and Doran into falling in line so that him and Rhaegar could use Dornish spears, but there was no way was I allowing for Rhaegar to be crowned after his actions.

No, I would save the spears and have Oberyn bring not just the Second Sons but also the Golden Company. It was just the timing, with so many pieces on the chess board being moved, I had to be careful, cautious, and wary that I did not gain too much hubris to snot ee mistakes and errors before they were made.

I was in the great game now, whether no one else knew it and that was one thing I was counting on, the element of surprise. I had been brought to this place for a reason, and I kept thinking as to why.

When I thought about what really started this all, what led everything to where it was, a prophecy, I began to laugh silently in the room I was standing in as my children laid down for a nap.

The wood’s witch said the Prince that was Promised would come from the line of Aerys and Rhaella. I did come into their line when I married Rhaegar and I cackled at how ironic everything was as I began to do crunches, sucking in my stomach as I grunted softly under my breath.

I needed to be more, to ensure the survival of myself and my children because I could feel the storm approaching. The winds were already blowing and I stood at the precipice of the edge of the lives I had known and lived, of the life I now live, as sweat drips down my nose as I crunch my abs, I take that step forward over the edge, falling into the abyss.

* * *

“You thought you could come here and threaten me?! I am your king! Such traitors within my kingdom. Rossart!”

There is a difference when you read about psychological and mental breakdowns, narcissism and sociopathy in textbooks compared to physically seeing an actual sociopath rage with your own eyes.

Aerys Targaryen, The Mad King was everything I had read about when Ryan was a college student when and was reading for leisure in her spare time. Except, it was infinitely worse as this is what Rhaegar allowed to fester when he did not call a great council when he turned 16 to put a stop to this madness. What he should have done at Harrenhal instead of squandering his opportunity by committing the biggest fumble as far as political clout goes.

I swallowed down the bile and kept my face blank as I watched Rickard Stark be lowered into the wildfire and I could hear my heart thumping in my ears. Because this was so wrong, so fucking wrong and I could do nothing because I was already in a precarious position now, and if I did anything now it could be my children or even I in the wolf’s place.

The time to act hasn’t come yet and so I am forced to watch as a man, who does not know the truth about his willful daughter be murdered, as his eldest son watches in horror. Only for that son to strangle himself as he tries to reach the sword, as Aerys cackles like a hyena throughout the throne room.

My breaths are shuddering and only a few laughs can be heard and my eyes flash to those men who dare laugh at **_this_** because they don’t realize that this **_could_** be them if they err around Aerys and he thinks they’re plotting against him.

Aerys thinks nothing of me, thinks nothing of my children except that I am a Princess of Dorne, and he needs my brother to send him men for what is to come next.

My retinue had been sent away when I left Dragonstone, I couldn’t risk them, I couldn’t risk Ashara who is in Sunspear now speaking in my name to Doran as time passes while Oberyn works in Essos.

I’ve been keeping an eye on Varys and even as we stand in the throne room, the Eunuch’s face is just as blank as mine, but our eyes meet, and I hold his gaze. He simply stares at me as Aerys’ laugh fills around us and our connection is only broken at the king’s next words.

“Come along my queen.”

This time my throat constricts and I feel myself slightly waver because while there is a heavy cost to waiting, I also have a hand in this as I watch as my mother-in-law look resigned as she moves away from the throne, her face brave but I can see the apprehension in her frame.

This cannot continue…but it must and when I return to my rooms, Rhaenys is tucked into my side on the bed as I hold Aegon in my arms. I hold my children tighter to my body as I try not to think about Rhaella’s screams.

* * *

Rhaegar returns, not to depose his father and rescue his mother from the king’s arson fueled rapes and torment but to lead his father’s armies.

I want to ask him if he’s had fun fucking his new wife in my homeland but I stay silent, silent as the winds as I watch him don his armor and it is a miracle in itself that I keep the disgust off my face as he makes promises to my children that he shall return.

He shall return alright, if I have anything to say about it but it will not be a triumphant return that he will be expecting. The same way he embarrassed me in front of the realm at Harrenhal, the same way he broke our marriage apart and made my children bastards, the way he has helped set this realm aflame, is nothing short of the same thing I will do towards him.

I can’t help but think about the Bible and Ryan’s dad’s favorite verse, Deuteronomy 32:35: “Vengeance is Mine; I will repay. In due time their foot will slip; for their day of disaster is near and their doom is coming quickly.”

It’s a nice verse, but with all the gods running around in this universe, I cannot say one is true over the other. I know there is Lady Fortuna and I know there is Death, I cannot wait on a god to dispense justice when it has been left to me to exact payment from those who have wronged me.

Rhaegar kisses me on the lips and I use every fiber of my being to not flinch when he does so, I watch silently as he turns his back and leaves the room.

With my back to my children as I faced the now closed bedroom door, I wipe my lips.

* * *

As the Battle of the Trident gets near, I find myself spending more time with Jaime Lannister as other members of the Kingsguard are either with Rhaegar as he rides to war, or some at the Tower of Joy guarding Lyanna Stark. My uncle has been sent to lead the Dornish spears, but the Targaryens will find that there will be no spears in aid for them, not with everything my brothers know.

“How are you Ser Jaime?” I ask softly, as he stands in the nursery looking down at Aegon, his bare hand outstretched as he uses his index finger to trace my son’s face.

How our friendship striked up had been planned and unplanned. I did not know if this universe followed show canon or book canon, but regardless I knew that underneath the underneath, Jaime was still the boy who dreamed of being like Aemon the Dragonknight, a knight in service of the realm. I did not know if he had an incestuous relationship with his sister or if the ripple across time had changed his fate just like it had changed mine.

What it must have been like, I thought to see the likes of Ser Arthur Dayne, Sword of the Morning and even be knighted by him, to see Ser Barristan the Bold and Ser Gerold Hightower the White Bull, all famed knights and thinking you’ll be a part of that brotherhood only to find it is not what you dreamed it to be.

That the brotherhood is fractured, as the Kingsguard, started by Queen Visenya Targaryen herself was destroyed from their true purpose as knights, the greatest knights of the realm stood aside as a king raped his queen.

I have to stand aside, and I was no knight and even then, it made my stomach tighten just thinking about Rhaella with her scars that she tried to hide away with gowns. Fortunately, she was sent to Dragonstone with Lord Lucerys and his fleet to guard her and it.

“Not well, Elia. Sometimes, I just…” Jaime sighs and I place my hand on his shoulder and nod my head in understanding.

Often times when I lay in bed, I debate whether I should kill Aerys right then and there but if I do that and Rhaegar returns while my support is still far away, I do not know what fate I will meet and so I bide my time, day in and day out.

“Sometimes, I go away when the King calls us to the throne room. I am there but not _there_ , as though I am floating, and I only come back to myself when it’s done.” I speak gently to him.

Learning how to willingly dissociate had been easier than I thought it was, but that was because I could not allow myself to carry all that Aerys did with me, it would not be healthy. Ryan’s dad always said that you could always catch stupid, by hanging around stupid people who made stupid choices and I couldn’t help but agree the same thing could be said about madness. That if I did not shut myself away from Aerys, the same madness that coursed through his veins would also taint me in some form or fashion.

“You are as wise as always. I do that too but even now with the queen gone, I still hear her screams, her pleas. My cloak is white, but it feels stained and it’s so heavy now.”

There is a lot I could say to that, because as I look at Jaime he looks as tired as I feel and I step closer to him, offering my hand.

“Would you care to dance, ser?”

There is hardly any noise in the castle and Aerys had sent away Jaime, for whatever reason but I cannot complain. The moon is in waxing gibbous and it offers the nursery a nice amount of light, as I stare upon his weary face.

“There is no music, Elia.”

I smiled softly and how foreign it felt! With everyone gone, outside of my children, I hardly smiled at anyone because no one else warranted a smile.

“Just humor me, good ser.”

One dainty hand was pressed into his large ones, while my other hand laid on his muscled arm and I began hum a song from an old life, one of Ryan’s parents’ favorite song by Cheryl Lynn and Luther Vandross as we began to dance around the room, the only sounds being the children’s soft breathing and my soft humming.

“I have not heard this song before,” Jaime comments as we dance in a circle, and I could feel myself relaxing.

It seemed the only place I could relax was in the nursery with just my children surrounding me. It was why Jaime had begun to come here in the nights, to get away from the near empty barracks and away from the king when he could.

“Maybe one day I’ll write out the lyrics for this song.”

We continued to dance and just for a moment I could forget about everything that was happening outside these walls, to let the tension in my frame slowly dissipate as I danced in step with Jaime.

As my hum dies down, I look up at Jaime, happy to see his face is relaxed just like mine, “are you feeling better ser?”

“A little, I shall take my leave now Princess.”

In the short moment we had of respite, we both knew not to linger around each other too long lest Varys whispers into Aerys’ ear.

Our moment of peace went as easily as it came.

* * *

I had been with the children when Aerys called me to the throne room and I held my breath as I left Rhaenys and Aegon with Aegon’s wet-nurse, their nanny and Balerion.

The evening was just settling, and the full moon brightened the corridors as I walked, my head held high as I was brought before the Mad King.

I only needed a quick glance before dread filled my stomach as I could smell the wildfire and drops of sweat began to bead on my skin. It was not the usual guard that could be found in the keep, but instead it was one of Rossart’s lackeys. Rossart himself was standing next to the throne, the crazed look in his eyes was nothing compared to Aerys’ and I licked my lips before I bowed as low as my dignity could stand before raising myself.

“You!” I watched as Aerys pointed a long yellow stained nail at me, his nails were so long that they began to curl and twist, surely a reflection to how twisted and demented his mind has become over the decades.

“Your Grace,” my voice sounds hollow in the empty throne room. There is no one here except for Aerys, Rossart, Ser Jaime, myself and the man holding on to me, his grip tightening with each passing second.

It makes me even more nervous to see that even Varys is not here, and my stomach begins to tighten just like the firm grip on my arm – I am sure there will be a bruise come morning.

“You Dornish whore! Why has your uncle not yet met with Rhaegar at the encampment?”

Because I told him not to, why should I waste Dornish lives for you?

“I do not know your Grace, maybe the weather has slowed them down.”

It is hard trying to placate a mad man because you never know which way the winds blow, especially with a man like Aerys who has no rhyme nor reason except that he likes to inflict pain.

“Is that so? Strike her! You lying bitch!”

The slap that comes is powerful and I feel myself daze and jilt a little in my attacker’s embrace as he pulls me upright and I can hear Aerys’ cackling. I shall always hear his cackles in my mind, and I can taste the blood on my lips as I dart my tongue across them to feel a split.

“I am not lying Your Grace. I have been a most loyal servant.”

I am lying, but that’s beside the point.

“You Dornish snakes are all liars. I shall see the truth for myself!”

The madness that is Aerys Targaryen is too much to bear considering this man, this lunatic has the same blood as I. I too am descended from Aegon the Conqueror, from Queen Rhaenrya and King Daemon, that was the whole purpose why they wanted me to marry Rhaegar. How Aerys forgets, how easy they all forget that Aerys own great-grandmother was Dyanna Dayne and that his great-great-grandmother was Mariah Martell, my own many times great aunt.

“Rossart! Fetch the boy! Let me see if my grandson is truly a dragon. A dragon does not burn.”

In the next moment, the throne room descends into chaos.

* * *

I struggled against the hold against me as I watch Rossart walk away from the cauldron of wildfire and my stomach turns violently as I turn myself into the man holding me, striking as a viper would, I bite down on the carotid artery in his neck.

His skin is salty but all I can hear is waves crashing in my ears as I bite down and **_rip_** the flesh away from him.

A howl of pain rings out in the room and the man pushes me to the cold marble floor.

Instead of Ryan Johnson’s blood pooling on the floor this time, it is my attacker’s as he puts his hands to his neck, obviously trying to stop the flow of blood but its too late. The blood sprays outward, getting on me and I don’t flinch as I turn my sights to Rossart who has stopped as he stares at me.

The whole world could have stopped. It wouldn’t matter, the moment that this man thought to walk, thought to even **_think_** of getting my son and bringing him to Aerys, his fate had been decided.

I wipe my bloodied mouth with the sleeve of my evening gown.

“You insolent bitch! I shall show you the wrath of the dragon! Rossart get the boy, Lannister, run her through! I see I have no more use for you than Rhaegar did.”

I had been waiting, as the months went on and now the only thought that ran through my mind was, “why wait til later when it can be done now?” Because if I don’t make a stand here, then I’ll be dead and my son may be dead too, I can’t help but worry what Aerys will do if that happens because he doesn’t like Rhaenys, never even touched her because she was so much like me, so _obviously_ Dornish.

If what just happened was chaos, then this next moment that would solidify the following days and plans could be said to be the opposite.

Chaos is wild, it _is_ a ladder, but it can only be useful _**if**_ you climb.

I had willingly fallen into the abyss while I was still at Dragonstone, because I knew eventually the time would come and while others fought in the light on the battlefield, here in this throne room, I stand on my own battlefield.

I began to ascend.

* * *

My feet move gently, not minding the blood underneath my sandals as the gurgling sounds from my attacker has faded and I turn my onyx gaze to Rossart.

He is a mad dog.

All mad dogs should be put down lest they spread their sickness to others.

Too long the realm had been flooded with madness and it is rotten from the head, as I stare between Rossart then to Aerys before I make my move.

I had practiced on the rats on Dragonstone and here but I knew I wasn’t ready yet to move a whole body for a long distance and so I shifted my gaze from Rossart’s face to his chest where his heart lay.

I learned on Dragonstone when I would stand on the beach as Rhaenys played with uncle Lewyn, that water is not always gentle. That water is a current that can hold steady in one moment with no ripples, but then shift into waves just as quickly. Water magic was the same in that fashion, learning how to adopt when the time called for it and I, I knew for a fact was a creature of adaptability.

Swift as a river, steady as a stream, my hands were raised in the air as I tightened my right hand as though I was holding Rossart’s heart in my own hand.

“What are you doing?! Stop this!” Rossart screamed as I closed my hand almost into a vice grip, and I watched him struggle to breathe as he walked towards me; his right hand was outstretched while his left hand gripped his chest before he collapsed on the floor. Dead.

My breathing wasn’t labored, and I didn’t feel exhausted, but that was more than likely the adrenaline flowing through me. It triggers a memory from Ryan, the same euphoria she felt when kickboxing, how she kept going even when fatigue kicked in, when the lactic acid in her muscles burned but she kept going because it _felt_ good.

I breathed in deeply, exhaling and inhaling slowly as I could feel Jaime’s eyes on me, but my gaze was focused instead on Aerys.

“You’ll not touch my son or my daughter. Not now and not never,” my words are heavily accented by my Dornish drawl.

I had assimilated as best as I could when I came to King’s Landing under Aerys’ order, but I was done playing to the tune of this mad man and any other fucker that had something negative to say about me and mine.

“Your impudence!”

I cut him off before he can begin another tirade, “shut your damn mouth! You despicable man!”

Maybe I had been wrong when I said I had been trying to cope with everything because what flows out of my mouth next definitely proves how wrong I was, but Aerys was going to die, right here and right now and I wanted him to leave this world knowing I thought him nothing more than vermin.

“You’re not fit to be king, you’re a worthless excuse of a man if I ever saw one. Do not fret though _Your Grace_ , I shall take good care of these kingdoms, soon all shall forget your name, forget your face, maybe if we are all lucky, we will even forget your terrible deeds. Let us pray to the Stranger for that,” I spit out.

“Insolence! Lannister, kill her.”

I hold up one hand to Jaime, but he hasn’t moved, he’s just staring at me from what I can see out of my peripheral.

“Your son won’t be king either.”

At this, Aerys jumps up from the throne, making a move to come down the steps and I step away, my feet light as I raise my hands towards him.

“You dare think to put your Dornish son on my throne?!”

“Do I dare? No, I **_will_**. If Lady Fortuna smiles upon me once again, I shall install Dornish inheritance laws and it shall be my Rhaenys who becomes queen, doing what Rhaenrya could not.”

A part of me is unsure if I can do that, Rhaenys is so very much Dornish, except for her purple eyes and as much as the racism kills me in this world just as it did to Ryan in hers, I do not want my daughter to end up like Rhaenrya, but another part of me wants to do the impossible. Wants everyone who looked down on my daughter to soon be kneeling towards her when she is crowned queen when she’s older.

Aerys walks down the steps of the throne with such fury and I move quickly, because I am done at looking at this rabid beast.

“Valyrians think so highly of yourselves when you forget who won the first Spice War. Valyrians had dragons but the Rhoynar had Mother Rhoyne.”

My hair moves like a whip as I motion for Aerys body to fall towards one of the swords of the Iron Throne that’s upright. He screams weakly as the sword pierces his neck.

A pathetic end for a pathetic man that led a pathetic life.

My shoulders rise and fall in tandem with the beating of my chest and I look at Jaime who is looking at the dead king’s corpse.

“I almost did it myself,” he whispers and only then do I notice that his sword is drawn but he’s barely grasping it.

“I almost did it myself…I wish I had,” he continued.

My body is moving before my mind registers everything that’s happened but I, _**we**_ need to move quick.

“We have to put his body in the fire, help me Jaime, please!”

Whatever cognitive dissonance Jaime was experiencing within himself seems to have stopped as I snapped him out of it. His sea-foam orbs are staring at me intensely as he sheaths his sword and we both move up the throne, careful of the swords and their sharp and jagged edges and we both wince at the squelch that sounds in the air as blood pours out of the dead man’s throat.

“Why the fire?” He finally asks as we drag Aerys to the cauldron and watch as the fire begins to consume his corpse.

Valyrians did hold the tradition of burning their dead and I _was_ the blood of the Conqueror. It was all the kindness Aerys would get from me, but really it was for another reason.

“He wanted to burn my son to see if he was a true dragon, as we see now, he was no true dragon.”

I feel tired but I am not done yet, I look at the blood trail and bend the blood, the blood from the throne slowly slides down the steps as it collects with the rest of the blood on the floor except for Rossart’s attacker who lies face down in his.

I bend the blood into the cauldron and only after I do that does the fatigue set in, does the adrenaline finally wear off and I am barely standing when Jaime catches me.

I notice I am shivering but that is because when Aerys had called me, I had no time to grab a shawl. I can hear a flap of movement before Jaime is draping me in his white cloak and I look up at him in somewhat shocked awe.

“Thank you,” I murmur as I pull the cloak tighter around my figure trying to trap my body heat from escaping.

“You did what I could not, what others could not. I think we should all be thanking you.”

At this I laugh dryly, and I turn my head and body to face him as I decide to sit on the bottom steps of the Iron Throne, not caring that blood had just been running down it.

“I know the first time you were assigned to guard Queen Rhaella, when you heard her screams you tried to stop it, tried to protect her. But Ser Jonothor would not let you.”

As I speak, I watch in fascination at the way Jaime’s face blankets into a grim mask, “I could protect the queen, just not from her king, from her brother,” he spat.

“Is that not the story of the Kingsguard? Take the vows of a knight, protect women, protect maidens and the innocent but allow your king to taint your vows with his heinous deeds and actions.” I shake my head, because I wonder when Visenya Targaryen had thought of the Kingsguard, did she imagine it would fall this lowly?

“What do we do now? Rhaegar shall soon reach the Trident and meet Robert.”

“He won’t get the spears of Dorne,” I shake my head and take deep breaths, my heart still beating quickly from earlier.

“Why?”

Jaime and I sit next to one another, tired and exhausted and I wonder when Varys will show up, though I am in no rush to see the bald man just yet.

“He annulled our marriage for the Stark girl, she went willingly. She fancies herself in love with him, but I wonder if she knows her actions helped get her father and brother killed.” This was the first time I was speaking this out loud because when I told Doran and Oberyn it had been written only. Lewyn has probably found out when he arrived in Dorne under the impression he would be leading Dornish troops.

“He’s made my children bastards, all for her. He kept her in the tower of joy, a gift from my mother before she passed, it was a gift for our wedding. He kept her in my homeland, annulled out marriage, bastardized my children and help set this realm on fire. He’ll not get anything else from me.”

It hurt me, thinking about everything, everything that’s happened both in my past lives, what’s happened now leading up to where I am now and what could happen in the future.

“What is your next step?” Jaime asks, his voice serious.

“I, I do not know. I mean I do, but I’m in the great game now, one mistake could be fatal and not just for myself. If Rhaegar wins, I do not know what he’ll do with me, nor do I know what Robert will do. If I run, they will both try to find me, and who knows what will happen then. I cannot run to Dorne, else they will wage war against my brother. I…Oberyn is in Essos, well he should already be sailing back home now, he is bringing sellswords, the Second Sons…and the Golden Company.”

My arms are wrapped around my body and I can hear Jaime’s breath hitch at my revelation.

“Myles Toyne is a good friend of Jon Connington.”

At this I smile, because yes, I had thought of the friendship between Toyne and Connington and I know Oberyn has also. Fortunately, there is Toyne’s second in command, Harry Strickland, who is prime for the taking of a promotion.

“You forget who my brother is ser,” I joked.

“So Dornish spears and sellswords, you plan on putting Aegon or even Rhaenys on the throne.”

“Not them, myself.”

Onyx gaze meets green and the silence is deafening. Because I had thought long and hard about this, considering that Rhaegar’s popularity is dwindling and Robert is known as a man-whore, well maybe I am reaching too far but if I don’t secure the throne, then that’s it. Everything I did and did not do would be for nothing and I won’t go down without a fight.

“You plan to make yourself queen…but you don’t have any blood-” Jaime stops himself and I can see him thinking as the gears turn in his head.

Ah, the son of Tywin Lannister.

“You will claim your Valyrian ancestry from Daenerys Targaryen, just the same as Robert will claim Rhaelle Targaryen for his claim, though his relation is closer than yours.”

I sigh at that but then I stand up, I have spent enough time sitting and I need to find Varys.

“Yes, which is why I must now get to work. Doran is waiting on my word and I need my spears here in the city. There is so much to be done, but it must be done regardless, the other options are not viable nor acceptable.”

Do or die.

Do or die.

“You know my father hasn’t made a move yet, he’s probably hoping Rhaegar dies so that he can marry Cersei to Robert.”

“That won’t happen, I have the Yronwoods waiting on my word to seize the Stark girl. She’ll be brought to the capital. If Lyanna is alive, I am willing to wager my life that Robert will take her over your sister, no matter how lovely your sister is.”

I watch Jaime’s expression to see if it’ll change when he’s talking about Cersei but fortunately it doesn’t, so maybe they haven’t done anything with each other in this universe. Jaime is already older than either of his book and show counterparts, with Cersei being the same age as Oberyn. Cersei and Jaime were not twins in this universe which had been surprising to find out. Some things remained the same from canon while others did not. 

The idea begins to form in my head quickly, as I blurt out my next words, “would your father be willing to make her a princess instead of a queen? Instead of you being a lord, what about prince consort?”

It’s a bold idea, I know that, but I need more power, more backing and not just from Dorne and sellswords, I need legitimacy and why not Tywin Lannister? Someone who fought in the Blackfyre Rebellions, a man who could make people tremble in fear just from a song alone, a man who was Hand to the King for 20 years?

Yes, Tywin had hand in Elia’s death, but even in the books he admitted there had been no reason for her to die, nor had the children’s death need to be so gruesome. If I can tie myself to Jaime, then I get Lannister protection. Maybe it’s better this way, I can understand a pragmatic man like Tywin Lannister over the idiocy and brashness of Rhaegar Targaryen and Robert Baratheon.

I bite my lips and hold my breath in anticipation – wincing at my split upper lip.

“Well…I’ve never been much of a thinker, but I’ve already put one cloak on you.”

I am thankful Jaime has not mentioned what I did, how I killed three men with no weapons outside of my teeth and hands. I exhale deeply and I give him the first genuine smile I’ve had since a long time. However, the moment is ruined by the entrance of Lord Varys and Grand Maester Pycelle.

So, they have found me instead of me finding them.

* * *

Jaime and I stand side by side, quickly showing ourselves as a united front and I know we must look a sight. Both haggard and tired, me with dried blood on my gown and face, with a split lip and a bruise forming on my arm. Two dead bodies on the floor with Aerys long since dissolved in the cauldron that is still burning.

A terrible sight indeed.

“Princess Elia, may I ask what has happened,” Varys’ silky voice calls out, his perfume making the taste of the iron in the air worse.

“It is Queen Elia now Lord Varys.”

At this declaration from Jaime, both Varys and Pycelle startle, though Varys is staring intently at me before gazing at Jaime with his beady eyes, his bald head glistening under the flickering flames of the torches throughout the room.

There is no mistake at the finality of Jaime’s statement, there is no regnant or dowager attached to my title. Rhaegar is still alive and he hasn’t been crowned king yet, but there is power in words, there is power in these words coming from the Young Lion of Lannister.

“Indeed, my betrothed and I were just discussing how so many things were amiss in the realm. How so much has happened, how a lord paramount and his heir were murdered, how a crown prince annulled his marriage – something a mad man like Aerys didn’t even dare to do – how he has made his legitimate children bastards, how a king tried to have his own grandson set on fire before he himself turned into Aerion Brightflame. Many things are amiss in these Seven Kingdoms and we are worried.”

I studied both men’s faces as they take in my words and while their faces remain the same, its their eyes that change however minutely. Pycelle’s eyes grew a smidge wider when I called Jaime my betrothed. Varys’ looked narrower when he heard that Rhaegar annulled our marriage.

“Oh, what, what shall you do now…Your Grace?” Pycelle asks feebly, but I know he is not a feeble man, the lecher that he is.

“Why, we shall be writing to Lord Tywin of course. For this is joyous news, after all both Princess Loreza and Lady Joanna had wanted Jaime and I to marry when we were younger, they had after all chosen us for one another. The grief had been hard on Lord Tywin and even my family after Lady Joanna’s unfortunate passing, but it seems that even in death, our mothers are working in our favor.”

Varys gazes at me the same way he did back when Rickard Stark was being burned, as if taking measure and I wonder if he’s more like his show counterpart than book because he seems genuinely interested, but it could all be a lie.

I am spinning a web, a web of lies and half-truths. But the war is based partly on lies and why should I take the high road when others are surely not? So yes, our betrothal shall be one made of songs, of a knight and a princess finally united at long last after the prince has discarded the princess and a knight in true fashion has come and draped his cloak upon my shoulders for protection.

A princess and her knight, it’s the classic tale of romance.

“Yes, my father shall be quite pleased at these turn of events. Come along Pycelle, we must write him.”

Jaime stares down Pycelle and I want to laugh but now is not the time to laugh, this is a marathon I am running, and I need to save the celebrations for afterwards, I walk towards Varys.

“My lord, would you be so kind to escort me to my rooms? I would like to check up on my children and freshen up, let us speak on our way before we join Ser Jaime and Grand Maester Pycelle in the rookery.”

“I shall await you before sending the letter off,” Jaime states before raising my hand and pressing a soft kiss to it, obviously willing to play up the charming knight schtick and I’m thankful for his cooperation.

We split up and I slip my bruised arm into Varys’ own perfumed clothed arm as we begin to make our way towards the nursery. The children should be asleep but if they’re not, Jaime’s cloak does a good job at covering the blood for I do not wish to scare my babies.

“Tell me my lord, do you have any family?” I ask as we walk down the corridors, while I am exhausted there still a steady level of energy coursing through me and I find myself eager for the next day, to put this horrible evening behind me if only for a few hours while I sleep.

“A sister, or even a nephew?” At the word nephew, we both stop in the middle of the corridor and I watch as Varys’ gaze become dangerously narrow and I am left with confirmation that this counterpart follows more closely to his book version.

“Before you say anything, I want you to hear me out, my lord because I have much to say. There is a reckoning that is coming to these Seven Kingdoms, I do not know about you Varys, but I am tired. I tire of war because men think with their cocks, because men who are crowned king or even prince do not think with the common sense the gods have given us. So allow me to paint a different picture from the grotesque one you saw in the throne room; two men shall face off into battle, while the death of Rickard Stark and Brandon Stark will play a factor, along with Lyanna Stark and her stupidity, it will also be a war between two claimants to the Iron Throne. Rhaegar as the Crown Prince and Robert Baratheon and his Targaryen grandmother.”

I am not afraid to speak in the corridors because I know that only Varys birds will be listening, or they have disappeared allowing their lord to speak in private once they heard his voice.

“Now you have me on the other hand, a wronged woman and another descendant of Aegon the Conqueror. Daenerys Targaryen was married to Maron Martell to bring Dorne into the Seven Kingdoms. You and I both know that many laws of the gods and men have been broken, not just with Aerys but also Rhaegar. Everything that was signed between Maron and Daeron has been set aflame with Rhaegar’s actions. These Kingdoms will see war again if I return to Dorne with my bastard children! Rhaegar took liberties that not even Aerys dared to take and it is no secret how badly he wanted Lady Joanna. If Aerys, if _Aerys_ had enough sense in his madness to see the insanity of reaching for another man’s betrothed and later wife, what does it say about Rhaegar?”

It may be cheap of me to paint Rhaegar mad, but I am willing to fight dirty to get what I want, by any means necessary.

Do or die.

Do or die.

“You and I also know what Harrenhal _should’ve_ been. A time for Rhaegar to gain support from not just Lord Tywin but also the Baratheons, Starks, Tullys and Arryns, but alas he ruined that to crown some chit of a girl who was already betrothed. Robert Baratheon has a fury to him, as is his house words but I find no more reason to see another lord paramount dead before his time.”

“I said a reckoning is approaching these kingdoms and I meant it Varys. **_This_** cannot go on, of men doing what they want, when they want because nothing else matters to them but vain glory. No, I want my children to know peace, to not have to fear war because of the actions of their father, excuse me, I’ve forgotten my children do not have a father now.”

I take a calming breath, ready to drive home my point. “Dorne is waiting with her spears for my call, my brother Oberyn is crossing the seas now to return with the Second Sons and the Golden Company to fight in my name. As soon as I am changed, I shall be sending a letter off to my future good father, for I now have Lannister protection. Rhaella knows me, she loves me as the daughter she never had and as her dearest friend, Princess Loreza’s daughter, Viserys too. With Rhaella I can gain Lord Lucerys who has never had any love for Rhaegar. I ask this of you Lord Varys, do you have a nephew? Because I plan on establishing a new reign, where my daughter shall be Crown Princess, as I _am_ Dornish and as her mother, it is my duty to find her a suitable groom, young though she is. Perhaps a _distant_ cousin, would not be so bad for her to be married to. Two families wronged by the Targaryens…united.”

I wish I could feel awful about selling off my daughter, but if I gain Varys then that means there’s a greater chance that she’ll live, that Aegon will live, that I will live and I am willing to take that risk. I could kill Varys, yes, but he is worth more alive than dead and if he is willing to rub elbows with me without foiling my plans, I shall welcome him with open arms.

We stand with just a hair of space distancing us from one another and I wait in silence as Varys continues looking at me, as though he is seeing me for the first time. It’s the same look Aerys had on his face when I killed Rossart without being close to him, the same way he looked when I pushed him onto that sword and kill him without ever touching him.

“I do have a nephew; he stays with a good friend in Pentos,” Varys states after a full five minutes of silence.

I could sag in relief but instead I rejoin my arm in his and begin walking towards the nursery again, another ally gained.

“I do believe we shall get along greatly my lord.”

“I agree, Your Grace.”

I turn my head slightly and give him a smile, “tell me my lord, do you happen to know a good spot on the Blackwater? We need the City Watch; we need the people of King’s Landing to rally behind me. Are you a fan of mummery acts, my lord?”

* * *

It had been a long night and I could feel the tenderness in my arm as I woke up, the sun was barely rising, and I was eager to start the day. I almost wanted to stop, but what was happening now was like a train going full steam ahead and there was no stopping it.

Do or die.

Do or die.

I wouldn’t – I couldn’t – stop until my crown was placed on my head, servants brought up a tub of hot water for me to bathe in and I did it quickly, as Varys’ little birds were already up and about, not just in the keep but also in the city, spreading the word of my call near the Blackwater.

I knew that Lord Tywin already had his men ready to march and my letter would simply bring forth his army to the capital quicker than planned. If I won the city and gold cloaks, I would then send a letter off to Doran and Lord Anders to go ahead and mobilize the Dornish forces and to capture Lyanna Stark. The guards at the tower will surely be shocked when Dornish forces arrive not in the name of their king or even prince, but their queen.

I walked into the nursery, putting on a happy face as I picked Aegon out of his crib, kissing his chubby cheeks and blowing on them and hearing him squeal softened my heart just a little more.

“Good morning, my little suns.”

Rhaenys was yawning and I watch her cuddle Balerion closer to her as she smacked her cute little lips before smiling shyly, “morning mama.”

Rhaenys has been a little quieter than normal, obviously taking Rhaegar’s absence hard, because she’s too young to understand everything going on around her and my heart breaks a little because no child should have to go through this. Both Ryan and Elia had parents who had married for love and they stayed together until their deaths, unfortunately for Rhaenys, the same could not be said about Rhaegar and I.

Rhaegar did leave just months after Aegon’s birth and Rhaenys stopped asking for Rhaegar on Dragonstone after six months of him being gone. Even when Rhaegar had returned to the capital to lead the royal forces, he had barely spent any time with Rhaenys, saying he would see her when he got back.

Maybe my children will hate me one day when they’re older, but I can only hope that when they do get older, I am able to explain to them clearly how their own sire’s action led to this. That I did everything in my being to secure their inheritance and lives and that I make no apologies by using all the means at my disposal to do so.

I’d rather not shit-talk Rhaegar to his own kids, but considering they are bastards, they literally have no father now. Maybe I am cruel, but the kids are young enough to where they can latch on easily to Jaime, as their new father for he will become their stepfather. He already spends time with them when he’s in the nursery, so there’s that but I still wonder if this is the right course of action. Because, I know that once Rhaegar gets to the capital, the news I have for him will not be pretty, but I try to put those thoughts aside as I ready my children for the day, dressing them simply like how I am dressed.

For what I am about to do this morning, will be nothing short of a great performance and as it hurts me to see my daughter so somber, it will definitely help me plead my case to the city and City Watch.

I did not put any make-up on and only a light swap of some lip balm, to help with my split lip, I wore a sleeveless pale orange gown, with a pale-yellow shawl. I had my hair pulled back in a low ponytail, showing off my exhausted state of mind, considering I had only gotten a few hours of sleep last night.

“We will be breaking our fast with Ser Jaime, he shall be going with us as we go down to the Blackwater.”

I had handed off Aegon to his wet-nurse so that I could brush Rhaenys’ hair and make her curls shine. My daughter sat silently and patiently, and I hummed under my breath, a sweet tune that I liked to hum when I was Ryan.

“You may go ahead and hand off Aegon to Ser Jaime, thank you Martha.” I told the wet-nurse as she bowed her head and left the room with Aegon in her arms.

“Little sun – look at your mama,” I whisper to Rhaenys and watch her turn her head and look at me, obviously now taking in my split lip and tired expression.

Her small hands cup my face and I gently lean into them, kissing the palm of her hands.

“Why are you hurt mama?” Obvious confusion marring her little face and I place a quick kiss to her forehead.

“Many things happened last night while you and Egg were asleep and I had to defend myself because of bad men that wanted to hurt me, but luckily our good friend Ser Jaime was there to help also.”

I had only realized last night that the reason why Rossart had not ran from the throne room was because Jaime had already unsheathed his sword and Rossart did not know who to face, if I was more merciful it would have been kinder to have Jaime cut him through than for the man to have his heart slowly be squeezed to death.

Heh, not like it matters now.

“Oh, does it still hurt?” I shake my head ‘no’ not wanting to alarm her even more.

“Today, we shall be going out and seeing the people and they may get loud, but that’s alright they won’t hurt us, okay? Ser Jaime will be there to protect us, because he a knight, knights protect women.”

 _Not all knights_ , I internally grumble to myself.

“Okay mama.”

My daughter places her hand and mine and we leave the room, with Balerion meowing after us.

* * *

Varys had done a wonderful job at picking this spot on the beach and his little birds had done as I asked, by using discarded looking glass, so that when the sun reached the highest point in the sky, it would reflect off the glass, giving my own appearance a holy light like a halo.

It was dramatic and I hoped it would pay off, because I was going all out, by dressing down and coming to the people of the city as a humble princess, discarded and abused by her good father and her husband.

Ryan Johnson had watched Scandal and saw how Olivia Pope worked the crowds and got politicians public support and I was going to implement that.

Make myself appear the wounded party in this all, with Ser Jaime, ever the valiant knight putting not just his white cloak upon me as a knight, but as an old friend from childhood who heard my plea and put the cloak of his house upon my shoulders too.

By Lady Fortuna, I shall have this city under my thumb by the end of the day. I shall have armies marching and sailing to me to protect my children and I and then I will face my opposition.

Breakfast had been a simple affair and even Jaime had followed my suit by not wearing his Kingsguard (now Queensguard) armor, but instead he wore his Lannister armor and colors. It would help sell the story we are weaving, even though Jaime says he is not much of a thinker I do not doubt any child of Tywin Lannister to be too much of a fool. Even Cersei had her moments of brilliance at one moment or two.

The trek is quiet, as I hold Aegon in one of my arms, while Rhaenys is holding a hand and I walk as graceful as a deity as I stand in front of the gathered crowd. The sun is slowly rising, and it looks glorious, no matter the hardships of the day before, the sun always rises again.

I gather my nerves, before I speak clearly into the murmuring crowd, “Men of the City Watch. Good people of King’s Landing, I humbly come before you, for your protection.”

I then kneel with Aegon’s body pressed close to mine, as my head is bowed, and my eyes are downcast.

The crowd goes quiet.

I hear collective gasps from people, and I look and see the prisms of light that are reflecting from the mirrors that are partially hidden by the sand.

“Mama, what’s going on? I’m scared, where’s papa?” Rhaenys speaks clearly but her voice wobbles and as my head is bowed, I allow a small smirk to appear. Not because I’m happy my daughter does not know where her father is, for it has almost been a year since he’s been in the capital, but for the fact that my daughter is handing this crowd to me on a silver platter.

It’s wrong, to use your children like this but the time has passed to cut away at the morals and ethics of Ryan’s life and be just as pragmatic and Machiavellian as the men around me now. 

I wish I could be sorry, but it’s do or die.

I’m simply doing my duty as a mother, by any means necessary.

* * *

“I humbly come before you all and beseech you to show me mercy, for the crimes of Aerys and Rhaegar Targaryen, laws that were broken between the gods – old and new – and men, those crimes are theirs and theirs alone; my children and I are innocent, this I swear. This war was started not just with the murder of poor lord Rickard Stark and his heir, Brandon Stark, and the rest of those Northern men but also because it was on a basis of a lie.”

I had finally raised my head and spoke loudly, and I could hear my voice carry out and there were harsh murmurs of ‘lies?!’ and ‘impossible!’

Then Pycelle steps forward, with parchments in hand, “it is true, these letters were exchanged from Prince Rhaegar Targaryen and Lady Lyanna Stark. They detail their plans of elopement and this letter, this letter here is a letter from the High Septon saying that Septon Farlen, had annulled the marriage between Princess Elia Nymeros Martell and Prince Rhaegar Targaryen, leaving her with nothing but two bastard children! Prince Rhaegar did this without even the backing of King Aerys and Queen Rhaella!”

At this the crowd roars and gods, if I was in the crowd, I would be eating this up like the juicy gossip it is because it’s not everyday that a person directly involved in the gossip, stands before a crowd and admits to it.

Talk about Maury and Jerry Springer.

Rhaenys leans in closer to me, obviously startled by the loud noises and Aegon stirs in my arms as he looks out into the crowd, although Rhaenys is Dornish in appearance like me, she does have Rhaegar’s purple eyes as does Aegon’s though his is more darker because of my own onyx gaze. There is no denying who the father of my children are, and I allow my face to crumble for a second, allow the people to see before I stand a bit straighter and collect myself.

“When I was called to be the bride of Prince Rhaegar, King Aerys called upon me because I was a daughter of Aegon the Conqueror, a niece to Good King Daeron, the Targaryens wanted me for the Valyrian blood in my bones and for my womb, as is the duty of a good wife. I did what was required of me, even at my own health when I got with Aegon as soon as Grand Maester Pycelle allowed. I made Dragonstone into a home for not just my husband but also for our children, now my children. I have done what was required of me but now I find out that it had all been for naught, that this war was for naught because those who skirted on their duty, people not like you, not like _**us** _decided they were above their duty,” I cried out, making my voice sound wounded at first before it got stronger.

It was a fine balance to slowly increasing my visual and auditory strength and I wanted to give myself a pat on the back because Ryan had been asked to join a debate team while in high school but she had too many after-school activities to tend to so she couldn’t.

Nothing gets people going like a speech, especially when you identify with them.

“Last night I was called upon by King Aerys once again, only this time he questioned me about Prince Rhaegar, how can I be my husband’s keeper when he is not my husband? When a prince has even overreached a king?!”

The crowd was getting louder and I took a steadying breath and covered Rhaenys ears and brought Aegon closer to my chest so that my next words would be muffled.

“King Aerys had a cauldron of wildfire and he wanted to test if my son, little Egg, was a dragon. He wanted to burn my baby just like he did to Lord Rickard Stark. A grandfather willing to kill his own grandson,” I shook my head morosely at the reminder how close the wire came to catching fuse when I was dealing with Aerys.

At that the crowd roared, becoming more boisterous, because **_yes_** _,_ how does a prince of the realm annul his marriage not even with the blessing of his parents or that of the High Septon? One **_doesn’t_**.

A man willing to murder his own grandson? **_Yes_** , Aerys was as mad as everyone proclaimed him to be.

“When I denied the king, he swore to me he would show me what a ‘true dragon’ was and the Stranger as my witness, the wildfire consumed the king, just as it did Aerion Brightflame!”

I didn’t want to swear to any gods, better not tempt Lady Fortuna in such a way, but Aerys _was_ consumed by the wildfire so that technically, not a lie.

It’s always down to the details in schematics.

“The king is dead?!”

There was a collective sigh at the truth of Aerys being dead, because even the people have heard of his madness from servants and maids alike.

“Had it not been for Ser Jaime, I would have surely lost my son to those deadly green flames. As I stood in the throne room, not knowing what to do, shivering in the night’s air, Ser Jaime walked toward me and put his white cloak upon my person. I could have wept.”

I let my voice trail off softly as I turn my head and give a small truthful smile to Jaime which he returns.

“King Aerys had not just held me hostage for the use my country’s spears, but he has also held Lord Tywin’s son and heir as hostage also. But as I stand before you, here and now I swear upon the old gods and the new, that change is coming. I have stood at the precipice of ruin and despair, but I found that there is still a true knight to be found in this capital, while others have run to guard a girl not even their princess or queen! Ser Jaime has put upon the cloak of his house to protect me, just as he did with his white cloak. He is a man, a knight of true honor and grace!”

My voice is unwavering as I look out into the crowd and I wonder how I look, standing here with an artificial shrouding light surrounding me as I spoke to this crowd.

Varys had little birds sketching this performance in the crowd so that portraits can be made for later.

This moment will go down in history, I am sure.

“Just as our mothers wanted when we were younger, Ser Jaime and I are to wed. Lord Tywin shall be arriving, a man of great honor and courage who has helped rule these Seven Kingdoms for 20 years. I ask you, beseech you all, to join me as we fix this realm which has been so broken by undutiful men and women. I ask you to protect my children and I from evil, known, and unknown as they try to take away what is my children’s rights. Prince Rhaegar Targaryen has taken away my children’s name and that is fine, as you see now I can stand on my own two feet and I shall cloak my babes in the cloak of my house, Nymeros Martell but I don’t just ask this of you as a mother, but as a daughter of Aegon the Conqueror, the niece of Daeron the Good, to give me the power to protect myself and my children.”

There is a lesson to be learned in all this, that when you present yourself as near destitute, when your young daughter is clutching your hand tightly, when a bruise from your assault can be seen as it darken and purples, as your split lip is reddened by your passionate speech, as your son lays nestled in your arms, as you practically call the citizens of the city to your side, if you do it right, _just_ right…they’ll hand you the keys to your greatest desire.

“I say we name her Queen! She has the blood of the dragon! Better her than a girl who gets her own father killed I say!”

“Prince Rhaegar has abandoned his duties not just to the realm by helping start this war but to his wife and children!”

“He abandoned his wife and children, poor Queen Dowager Rhaella too! I’ve heard of her bruises and King’s Aerys rapes. Imagine a son leaving their mother like that!”

"Dangerous times we’re living in, all this started over a girl? That what’s whores are for. Less costly than that wolf girl.” 

Because it's one thing for common folks to have bastards, hell even lords, but a Crown Prince, a Targaryen Prince when just twenty years ago the final Blackfyre Rebellion had been squashed? Considering my children are about even bastard but Rhaegar using some bullshit excuse to get what he wants instead, as usual. 

It’s one thing for common folks, for bastards and even lords to skirt their duties but a Crown Prince, the Silver Prince who is supposed to be the upstanding guy, the man’s man, ladies’ man?

It should never be done.

As I listen to the crowd, I raise my face and bask in the sun, just for a moment and I stand still as I do so, closing my eyes just a bit and I only open them when I hear, “Queen Elia.”

I take a shuddering breath.

“Thank you,” I murmur under my breath, to Lady Fortuna because fate has been good to me as of late.

The chants get louder and I kneel once more, my head downcast as I hold back tears, _queen…I shall be what I set out to do._ I am so close and when I raise myself, I let a few tears shed to show how thankful I am.

These tears are not fake, nor are my thanks.

* * *

When we re-enter the keep, I give the children to the nanny and wet nurse, not even bothering to change my clothes. I kissed both their foreheads and promised to eat lunch with them later once I was able to.

Rhaenys seems to be fine, still quiet but no more distressed so that lets me know she didn’t hear about too Rhaegar bastardizing her, I could have told her in private, but I shall wait later on when I private to explain away from prying eyes.

I gave the servants strict instructions to not speak anything to Rhaenys nor Aegon about what happened. All they know is that their mama is queen and it shall remain that way until I can speak to them delicately about the matters of not just my old marriage, but now my new marriage and the matters of state.

As I walk into the small council room, the men are all standing, and I can hear their greetings of ‘Your Grace’.

Jaime was standing at my left-hand side, which is where he’s belong now as my prince consort and once Lord Tywin arrives, The Hand of the King shall sit on my right. Lord Varys is standing next to Jaime who doesn’t look perturbed by the perfumed man, next to the empty Hand of the King seat is Ser Manly Stokeworth, Commander of the City Watch, of course Grand Maester Pycelle is standing there too, looking as feeble as ever.

During the night, it had been Jaime who had gotten rid of Symond Stauton who had been creeping around the keep after they had left the rookery. Jon Connington had been stripped of his titles, after he lost of the Battle of the Bells and I wonder if he remains in his castle or goes to follow his Silver Prince on the Trident.

Most of Aerys’ small council are dead or exiled, though Lord Lucerys is still guarding Queen Rhaella.

Jaime moves my chair for me, and I smile at him, he is charismatic, and I appreciate that. I only hope that our marriage will be a happier one than the marriage I had with Rhaegar.

When I finally seat myself, the men in the room follow and I lean forward placing my hands on the table, crossed together.

“Shall we begin?”

Posted: 08/13/2020

Edited: 08/13/2020

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I started writing this at like 4pm (it's around 1am when I post this) and it just kept going and going and, I'm fucking happy with it. It took me five times to get this first chapter done right. Each attempt was around 500-1k words but it didn't feel right. I think because I kept wanting to rehash everything but I wanted to get this fic along because this isn't a long story, this fic be in between 6-10 chapters, some sweet, fluffly and cracky to satisfy this plot bunny I've been having. 
> 
> I'm posting this in my silk pajamas with my fuzzy warm bathrobe on, when I say BIG MOOD, I mean that shit lol. 
> 
> Just keep in mind that this is straight up crack folks, lol let me enjoy this. I'm writing what I want to read, so I do hope you enjoy!
> 
> I also figured out how to do a good mood-board, so I'll definitely need to redo the one for 'ASP'...at some point...eventually lol.


	2. Adrift In A Sea of Tears

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The clock is dwindling down as more moves are made, including the arrival of allies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Would you care for some crack?
> 
> Song: Eight by Sleeping At Last

“Life is a storm, my young friend. You will bask in the sunlight one moment, be shattered on the rocks the next. What makes you a man is what you do when that storm comes. You must look into that storm and shout as you did in Rome. Do your worst, for I will do mine! Then the fates will know you as we know you.”

-Alexandre Dumas, The Count of Monte Cristo  


The price of goods is often measured in some form of currency: gold, silver, or even priceless artworks but I find myself finding the worth of things in blood and bone. Bodies and coffins. Tears and screams.

How much blood can I hold in my cup before it overflows? How many bodies can I see packed away into wooden coffins to be buried underneath the earth, where the blood has settled into the soil? How many mothers must I see weep over their sons, before I say, ‘enough is enough’?

I do not know the number, not yet at least. My cup is barely full and often I find myself looking at it, wondering when the blood will drip down my hand the same way Aerys’ blood poured down the Iron Throne.

I am not a saint and I never claimed to be. Ryan had been jaded girl who looked at life with a grey gaze, while Elia had been a rose without thorns.

Yet, there are many flowers which have no thorns but are poisonous all the same.

It’s the choice of being malevolent or benevolent, to be malignant or benign in nature.

It’s the age-old question that Hamlet posed to himself, “to be or not to be, that is the question.”

* * *

When I wrote to Rhaella, I wondered what her response would be and what her thought process was when she read the letter I had sent. It had not been written in false cheer, but it had been written in honesty and I gave her a very broad scope of the situation she and her children were placed in – with Daenerys soon to be born – Rhaella had to pick a side.

Viserys and Daenerys or Rhaegar.

Life or death.

It’s cruel, making a woman pick one child over the other but I told her straight forward what the truth was. It was up to her to choose and to choose wisely.

I did not find Rhaella at fault, not for her son’s nor brother-husband’s actions because they were full grown men and should be held accountable for themselves.

Aerys already has and for the past three days I have slept better than I have in a long while, knowing that cretin died by my own hands.

But while that was true, she is now the Lady Regent of Dragonstone until Viserys comes of age to be Lord of Dragonstone, the title that the Targaryens first held when they fled from Valyria would be reinstated. That was all the Targaryens would have for their own, because all the gold that Aerys hoarded now belonged to me and I was not going to give up more than I should or wanted. 

However, as I sit down and read her response, I let out a sigh of relief, because while I had not contemplated on killing Rhaella, the other options I was going to use would have been less savory in kind either way. I pitied the woman as I am sure she pitied me when Aerys brought me to King’s Landing as she was sent to Dragonstone, a respite from her husband’s brutality with Aerys fear the war could be lost and his need to use me as a hostage.

I pitied her because what it must be like to know you raised a coward for a son. I don’t mean that rudely, but Rhaegar is a failure as not just a prince of the realm but also a son.

If Ryan’s father had treated her mother as cruelly as Aerys did Rhaella, she would have put her own father six feet in the ground, no matter how much she loved him.

Elia’s own father, Prince Consort Maron Gargalen had loved and respected Princess Loreza, but Elia knew if Maron had treated Loreza wrong; Doran, Oberyn and their uncle Lewyn would have killed her father without thought nor question.

The level of callousness that’s needed as a son to allow your father to reign as long as he has, unchecked in his madness and brutality is staggering and I wonder if Rhaegar has his own set of madness about him that could explain his actions.

I doubt there’s a genuine explanation for his actions because I am of the opinion that he’s a narcissist, filling himself with delusions of grandeur as he thinks his cum is the fucking answer to mankind. I mean what other Crown Prince would go down to the poor people of King’s Landing and play his fucking harp as if that’s supposed to fix their hunger or health?

Ugh.

“What does Lady Rhaella say?” Grand Maester Pycelle asks.

“It is as I thought, she has chosen her babies over her eldest, not that I blame her. I am a mother too and I understand the sacrifice she is making. She shall speak to Lord Lucerys to get him onside, should not be that hard as Lord Lucerys never cared for Rhaegar and he distanced himself through the years when Aerys grew madder,” I state to my small council.

Within the span of three days, little sleep could be found between my council and I but it’s gotten easier, because the spark of fire that had been lit since I came to be, has slowly began to change. What was once a small flame now burns like an inferno inside me, it is an exhilarating feeling to have.

Lord Varys, Grand Maester Pycelle, Ser Manly Stokeworth, Jaime and myself are often within the small council chamber, working together and getting things prepared because we all know once Lord Tywin arrives in two days, he will want to know all that we have done since Aerys died.

It will further prove to him how capable I am as he himself will see the City Watch mobilizing to prepare for the rebels and even loyalist forces should they arrive before the Dornish forces can arrive to reinforce Lord Tywin’s army.

“I want Aerys and Rhaegar’s old rooms stripped and bared. I want all of Aerys’ furniture burned but stripped of its worth first. I’ll not waste anything. I shall be having Rhaegar’s belongings packed away for the time being until he arrives to answers for his crimes against the realm. I shall have new furniture made and crafted for my betrothed and I. I do not want any remnants of Aerys in this keep.”

If there was a sneer on my face when I said that then no one commented on it, but I was sure everyone sitting at this table would be glad to not have any reminders of Aerys within the keep. The man was a fucking menace and he didn’t deserve to be spit on even if he was running around on fire.

Aerys, while he had been beyond mad and reason, he was quite good with money and being a frugal old man – I could give credit where it’s due, begrudgingly, of course.

I had many plans to expand upon the treasury to ensure that gold kept flowing into the Crown.

“Grand Maester Pycelle, I want you to set up a meeting with the High Septon, I shall meet him in the Great Sept of Baelor this evening, I wish to speak with him about matters held closely to my heart,” I stared directly at Pycelle as I spoke not daring him to decline my request.

He is Lord Tywin’s dog, but he is also mine now too.

“Yes, of course, Your Grace.” He answered less feebly than he has the days before.

Good, he’s learning.

“Lord Varys,” I turn my attention to the bald eunuch sitting next to my betrothed.

“Yes, Your Grace?” Before this man’s silky voice would have gotten on my nerves, but now that we share each other’s confidences and have private meals with one another, I find myself liking him more as the days pass.

“As you all know I have plans to see not just King’s Landing but all of this realm blossom. With that being said, I need to know more about my subjects to better understand them and to better understand their wants and needs. For that to happen I need more spies and I have the solution for that. Whores.”

Petyr Baelish was a terrible man, too obsessed with chaos and not caring about the consequences for others but he had been brilliant when he turned his whores into spies. I'll have to kill him at some point, so he doesn't use Lysa Tully to stir up trouble in the Vale or pass off his sickly bastard child as the Arryn heir. 

I’ll be taking that, thank you Littlefinger.

“Oh?” Varys seems surprised by this and I imagine they all are.

“Yes, I plan to have brothels brought under the Crown’s protection. Better healthcare for the women, thus better healthcare for men, as disease will be slow to spread with healthcare readily available for them to be treated. We collect taxes from the brothels, and then sponsor childcare for them also, thus having more revenue collected.”

It was high time to introduce socialism into Westeros. Healthcare for the poor, childcare for whores so that they can work in peace knowing their children are being care for, there will also be security at brothels so men who dare to get rough with the workers will be sent to the dungeons, and if the offender is really terrible – the black cells.

Socialism with a bit of a monopoly going on because I plan to have a foothold in the sex industry of King’s Landing.

“This is…a bold move…Your Grace,” Ser Manly Stokeworth stated.

“It is, but with the revenue we can collect, just imagine what we can do with the coins from that. Better weapons for the City Watch, a proper fleet that belongs to the Crown can be created, I also have plans for Fleabottom. I have grown tired of smelling shit and if I am tired of it, then I know my people are too. Besides, it is no wonder that disease runs rampant in Fleabottom when there’s shit in the streets and the people are so closely packed together.”

Jaime laughs at my crass language and I roll my eyes, smiling a little. I can see the pieces of Jaime, Ryan read about in the book series. A man who took too long to get out from the manipulations of his sister and began seeing the world through his own personal gaze and not the gaze he’s had as a child. A man who learned to take responsibility for his actions and begin living in his own truth, but what took near decades for that Jaime to do then, he is already doing so now in front of my very eyes.

For all that Jaime is, there is certain goodness to him, a light that is as golden as his hair and I wonder how long it’ll stay that way and a small part of me desperately wants to keep it for myself, to not have him tainted with darkness like I am.

“Now, let us continue. Lord Varys do you think you can begin to implement these changes sometime soon? The sooner we get those brothels under the control of the Crown, the better.”

Varys just stares at me, looking pleased with what I am beginning to suspect, at my cunning. I’m not the kind of girl who is just going to lie down and roll over for the men at the table. This is _my_ table that they are sitting at, and I won’t let them forget it.

* * *

“Jaime, I am glad you could come see me before I left to see High Septon Pater,” I spoke as Jaime walked into my apartments, closing the door behind him softly.

The children had eaten and have gone down for a nap while I had waited for Jaime to come, I was a little nervous, because we have still not spoken about what I did and what he saw.

“Are you thirsty? I have some sweet honeyed wine, Dornish red and lemon water, if you wish,” my hands are clasped together as I stare at him, but he just smiles instead before sitting down.

“Some lemon water will be nice, Elia.”

My stomach twists and I don’t understand why until I think on Elia’s memories, and her childhood romance with Ser Arthur in the Water Gardens (which made his betrayal even more hurtful – the fucking asshole) and I realize it’s a crush.

I like the way he says my name.

Jesus Christ, how pathetic.

The guy sees me kill two men before killing the king he was sworn to, and he hasn’t mentioned anything about it to anyone else; I’m attracted to him because he is keeping my secrets and is loyal.

First guy not to stab me in the back in a year and I find myself smitten; lord have mercy.

“I’ve been wanting to speak with you, to explain…well this.” My fingers are nimble in their movements as I bend some lemon water into the cup I set down on the table.

I sit in silence as I watch Jaime as he stares at the cup, before lifting it to his lips and drinking it before setting it down once more.

“Well, that is one way to pour a drank,” he quips, and I groan, my index and thumb pinching the bridge of my nose.

“With all seriousness…considering what I saw you do; I assume it works the same with blood or any liquid really?”

“Yes. I will be honest in my answers to any questions that you may have, we are to be married and I don’t want to have any lies between us,” though that itself is a partial lie.

How do you explain to a man that you’ve already lived two lives before this one? No, I would sound as mad as Aerys and me having Targaryen ancestry would only strengthen that.

I told my brothers that I had a “dream” of utter destruction of our family and they love me and trust me enough to heed my words, but Jaime and I are nowhere near that level of trust and I can’t reveal that, not to him.

“Alright, we’ve got two hours before you are to meet the High Septon. I’ll shoot off questions and you’ll answers them as straightforward as you can be,” Jaime leans towards the table, his cat-green eyes studying me, as I nod my head in agreeance.

“What exactly is this, that you do?”

“It is water magic, like the Rhoynar that came before me when Garin the Great, Prince of Chroyane cursed the Valyrians. The power that Princess Nymeria of Ny Sar had when she took her ten thousand ships and fled, not willing to be enslaved by the Valyrians. It is the magic blessed upon the Rhoynar by Mother Rhoyne that allowed water to flow into Dorne. I suppose it has always been inside me, I just never looked for it, never needed it until now.” I tried to stop the taint of bitterness in my last sentence; because maybe this power has always resided latent inside me and I just never knew, never needed it until death had been staring down at me; but then again if that was true then where was it when Elia had needed it most?

“Have you always had this…ability?” I noticed he didn’t seem sure on what exactly to call what I could do and if I didn’t have all the outside knowledge that I did, I more than likely wouldn’t be able to either if I were in his position.

“No, it has recently _manifested_ so to speak. It started around the time Rhaegar left and I began to grow suspicious of him and his actions. I spent that year while he was away, training myself in a way. Starting from my bathtub water to even the water of Blackwater Bay. As far as the blood bending goes, that began when I worked on my nimbleness, using rats and other vermin alike in the castles. I had no idea if it would really work, I never tried before on man, but Aerys…he overreached himself and it was time to act anyway.”

I’ll still be angry at Aerys until the day I die because he really wanted to kill my son who hadn’t done anything to him other than be his grandson.

“…how did you know Rhaegar went for the Stark girl?”

“The same way women just know things; a woman’s intuition is very real. You begin to smell the lies on a man’s lips, and I paid attention to his body language, my mother taught us that. When someone lies, they have tells, a twitch of the eye, widening or constricting of their pupils; some may even begin to sweat, or they’ll have a tick, a finger may jerk, or they’ll bounce their legs. Their eyes shift quickly as though to escape from questioning. I am not blind, no matter how ill some people thought I to be.”

Even if I didn’t have the foreknowledge that I did, Rhaegar acted too suspicious for me to never doubt him or question his actions. I would have been able to smell a cheater the moment he gave those blue roses to Lyanna.

“My father will expect us to have children, I do not want to pressure you but…you know my father,” and yes I do recall Lord Tywin and how he treated us when we visited Casterly Rock in order to secure betrothals between us and the eldest two Lannister children.

I can admit that maybe my mother showed up too early, unknowingly on her part because Lady Joanna had died while we were sailing to the Rock. It had been an unexpected death and too soon after Lady Joanna died and maybe that’s why Lord Tywin said what he said, because regardless of him trying to get Cersei to be queen, he would have been thinking more clearly if his beloved wife had not died in childbirth.

Aerys had already sent out the Baratheons to find a Valyrian bride for Rhaegar in Essos, Lord Tywin knew this and he should have married Jaime and I as soon as possible, denying the option to Aerys to get the only woman who had Valyrian blood for his son; thus allowing Cersei to be an option for Rhaegar but alas, it’s all a moot point now.

However, I am once again pondering on Lady Fortuna, on the way fate works, because originally Jaime and I were supposed to be wed, in both Elia’s universe and now this one so yes, maybe some things are fated and cannot be thwarted.

“My health _had_ been fragile when I was younger, but I spent that year on Dragonstone building myself up, I cannot do what I do with this ability, if I am not strong. I am of the sun, Jaime and Dragonstone is no place for a woman like me. It is a gloomy place, not a place where babes should be born nor a place where I would live – willingly. I spent six months resting after Rhaenys, but Rhaegar needed another head, so he laid with me and thus Aegon came but my body had not recuperated enough to handle his birth well. I needed more time, time which Rhaegar would not and did not give me.”

“Oby and I are just a year apart, the same as Rhaenys and Aegon but my mother had no problem giving birth to Oby, because she was where she belonged, at home. Resting in leisure in the Water Gardens where children played in the sun, her second birth so soon after my own was easy. I needed the light and Dragonstone only gave me darkness,” my voice trailing off as I finished.

I know that Elia herself had wanted to give birth in Dorne, it was her home and she wanted to give birth in the Water Gardens, just like her mother had done for each birth, except for the two miscarriages she suffered when she was a lady-in-waiting for Rhaella and miscarried in the capital.

“My paternal grandfather was also a twin, so I have a good chance of giving birth to twins also, just like your own maternal many time grandmother gave birth to the Lannister twins, Jason and Tyland.”

When I realized the discrepancy in some of the known facts I had of both canon worlds, I had historical texts supplied to me under the guise of educating Rhaenys, so that I may know the actual relations of the great Houses of Westeros.

Ryan’s own grandfather had been a twin and Elia’s paternal grandfather, Lord Tremond Gargalen had a twin brother, Ser Dremond by their mother, Princess Kynir, a tribal princess of the Orphans of the Greenblood.

Lady Fortuna works in mysterious ways, but this gives me some ground to stand on when dealing with Lord Tywin if he has any doubts about my fertility. I had gotten pregnant with Rhaenys on the night of my wedding and Aegon came soon after words after a few couplings. It would be proof for Lord Tywin to further join my cause, along with his son being my prince consort.

“You’ve thought long over this, haven’t you?”

“I’ve had no choice really, you know that. Do or die is my mantra. By any means necessary so long as my children and I live. I told myself I wouldn’t let them be robbed of what was rightfully theirs and I won’t. I love them too much.”

Ryan, while she had not been a mother, she had been a daughter and a cousin, she had baby cousins who would totter after her when she went to visit her family in Louisiana and sit on the porch with them, eating ice cream to keep cool in the humidity; or doing the same with her cousins when they would visit her in Texas.

Elia had loved her children, she had fought like a tigress against Gregor Clegane for her children and though she died, she still had fought for them.

Another twist of my stomach makes me freeze, realizing that Rhaegar himself had knighted Gregor Clegane and I reach forward, taking a big gulp of my lemon water to wash down the taste of bile that’s settled on my tongue. The irony of this is a blow to the head, much like the one I suffered from just three days prior as I can still feel the split in my lip.

I wondered how Elia felt, to see the man her husband knighted, smash her son into the wall, then try to fight him off only to be slapped onto the bed before she was assaulted and then to have her body split – I stop the train of thoughts, the hand that sits on top of my gown closes into a tight fist as I try to breathe.

The sound of waves come crashing into my ears and I take relief in the roaring of it.

In and out.

Push and pull.

Just like waves crashing upon a beach and then receding.

There are list of many of men I wish to see dead and none more so than Euron Greyjoy and Gregor Clegane.

I shall see to it.

“Are you alright?”

My head jerks and I look to Jaime who is looking at me in worry and I offer a weak smile, “Yes, just thinking is all, I find myself thinking too much as of late. I’ve been running a long time, but I know that if I stop, I may not wish to continue, so I just keep going because to stop means death.”

If I stopped now, if I just took my babies and fled to Dorne, that would be it. It would all be over, but I’ve invested so much into this that I cannot afford to stop now.

I tell myself at night that it’s almost over, I’m almost there and that’s what keeps me going, because it's not just me that’s running, I’ve got not just Rhaenys and Aegon strapped to me, but also Doran and Oberyn and Dorne as a whole.

So many people are depending on me and if I stop, it won’t just be me suffering in defeat.

Just like if I win, it won’t be just me basking in victory.

* * *

I lied but lies seem to be the only comfort I have that I do not burden others with.

I’m not alright.

I’m not alright and that dual hatred that I have from two women is only compounded by the double grief I also carry.

I’m not okay.

I wish I could scream; I wish I could tear down these walls and make this keep flood with my fury and anguish.

I wish to take Rhaegar by the head and bend all the liquid it in it before his head bust, just like how Aegon’s head had been squeezed and smashed bloody against the wall.

I wish to take Lyanna by the hand and pull Jaime’s sword and cut her over a hundred times just like Lorch did to Rhaenys.

My grief is strong, palpable and I work so hard to keep it away, to not let others see what I am hiding.

I wear a mask and I wonder when I will be able to remove it, to put it on a shelf it and allow it to collect dust.

I wonder.

* * *

I do not want to be a hateful person, but I am what I am, and I cannot make any apologies for it.

I am what the world made me, what Lady Fortuna sewn together herself, who was I to go against that?

I do not know my fate; I do not know my destiny or where the path I am walking will lead me to.

These waters are shallow, but there is a depth in my reflection that cannot be denied.

* * *

“High Septon Pater, I am blessed to be able to meet you during these troubling times,” I speak tenderly.

The High Septon is not a feeble man like Grand Maester Pycelle and he is not as corrupt as the one who came before him, so I find him more likeable already. I do not want a corrupt man in such a position of power, but I need an ally, someone who can help me in my goals and not work against me.

“Your Grace, I have heard tales of your charity and grace from the whispers amongst the people. During your shame and sorrow, you kneeled before the people of this city and sought out their protection. Tell me child, what is it that you seek from me?”

His voice was not grave, and it was comforting in the way Ryan’s father voice had been. Gentle but with a hint of steel underneath and it twisted my heart a little to yearn for someone who was so far out of my reach.

“I seek your protection, High Septon. The people have named me queen, but I need more protection not just for myself and my children but for the realm. A septon, a rogue septon was able to discard the laws of the gods and men for a wayward prince and a lord paramount’s unruly daughter. I accept that the marriage has been annulled, I won’t fight it because I am too tired, too tired yet, High Septon. My children have lost a father and I cannot even begin to explain it to them, to make them understand. My children have been bastardized for no reason than shirking of duty, and it makes me wonder about the vows that were taken when I wedded Rhaegar.”

“When we wed, it had been you who wed us. You said, ‘cursed be he who would seek to tear them asunder’ and I realize I was not to one to tear apart my marriage. I birthed a daughter and even against the better counsel of Grand Maester Pycelle, I gave birth to Aegon just a year later. I did my duty; I provided a prince and a princess for the Crown and yet it wasn’t enough. Rhaegar does not want my children, so he has left them. Left my boy to be almost killed by King Aerys and still he is nowhere to be found. I seek your protection High Septon, that you will declare my children legitimate, as sole children of I, Elia Nymeros Martell. Let them take my name so that I can ensure that their inheritance remains through me.”

I can easily give my children my name, the issue is not that, but I need legitimacy from outside forces, just like I need Lord Tywin for my status, I need the High Septon for my children.

I can give them the Nymeros Martell name, but I need the High Septon to declare my marriage annulled because when the rebels arrive, I am sure they will want to make demands of House Targaryen and I am _not_ a Targaryen. I won’t be paying debts that had been incurred by others.

No, I will let the blame fall rightfully where it belongs.

Some will look at me and wonder why I won’t fight the annulment, but I wouldn’t take Rhaegar back even if he himself gave me his crown. He cannot give me something that I am taking for myself.

Besides, Jaime had been ready to kill a king for me, after a year of us spending time together in secret in the nursery. He has shown goodness and continues to show me loyalty.

Rhaegar had years to dispose his father and instead decided to sit on his hands and fuck off instead.

I know who the better man is.

“Does this have anything to do with the young Ser Jaime, Your Grace?”

I like that the High Septon is already addressing me as ‘Your Grace’ but just like everyone else, I am sure he wants something from me in return for his protection and it’s just a matter of finding out what that is.

“He has been a great friend, when King Aerys died, I almost fainted from the shock and Ser Jaime had covered me in his cloak to protect against the chill. He showed me kindness when he had no reason to and when we found out Rhaegar had annulled our marriage, he offered to give me his family’s name for my protection. I will always give thanks to the Seven for sending me such a good knight.”

I might be laying it on thick, but I don’t care, all the other members of the Kingsguard bar my uncle can piss right off. Jaime hadn’t even done anything, but he had been _prepared_ to do so, and that was more than what I could say about the rest of them who had disobeyed their king and instead followed their prince.

It was called the Kingsguard not the Princeguard but if those men dare to return, I shall deal with them sufficiently.

Maybe it’s because Jaime was still young, still new to the Kingsguard where he could push down the blind obedience to allow a king to order the execution and burning of his own grandson. I couldn’t say for sure, but I am thinking it was enough that Jaime had been willing to draw his sword and do something had I not acted first. 

“But I must ask, High Septon Pater, what it is that you are seeking from me as I seek from you?”

The High Septon and I are walking around the Sept together, a decent amount of distance apart from us but I am watching him wearily for all his geniality, I won’t be taken unaware.

“I wish for peace, Your Grace. King Aerys…had not been well for a long time and it is sad to hear that Prince Rhaegar has fallen to his own madness. The people are starving and dirty and I find myself at a loss, for the person who sits on the throne may change but the rest of things remain the same. Since Lord Tywin left, the realm and most importantly the capital has fallen into further disarray.”

So…the church needs gold to help the people of King’s Landing, because poor and sick people are not willing to hear about the goodness of the gods when their bellies are empty, and their babies are dying.

“We are of like mind, High Septon. I have been speaking to my small council, coming up with plans to make King’s Landing into a better place than the way I have found it. Lord Tywin shall be arriving in two days, may I seek out your council when he arrives so that we may all discuss the matters of the realm?”

The inner chamber of the Sept is quiet and the High Septon stops walking, causing me to also stop as we stand and stare at one another in silence.

It is just like how Varys and I were just a few days ago, sizing one another up and doing an odd dance as we figured out what the other person wanted.

“I shall be happy to speak with both you and the Hand, Your Grace. Allow me to walk you out,” High Septon Pater motions for me to follow, my steps falling into rhythm with his just as easily as before.

* * *

When I go to sleep at night, my children are in the rooms with me and I listen to their breathing, it becomes an anchor for me.

Every breath that they take, that is because of me.

I hold them close, pressing kisses to their cheeks and foreheads and rubbing their backs in soothing circles, offering all the comfort that I can give.

The waters are shallow, but its deep enough for children to drown in.

I’ll carry them for a little while longer.

* * *

Lord Tywin arrives outside the city walls with his army, and what a grand army it is.

Jaime and I stand together in front of the Red Keep as we welcome Lord Tywin into the city.

“Lord Tywin, I welcome you. I am glad you were able to mobilize so quickly to come to the aid of your Queen, your daughter,” my eyes never waver or stray from Lord Tywin’s cold gaze.

“Father, it is good to see you,” Jaime speaks clearly though I can tell he is nervous under his father’s gaze, but I lightly squeeze his arm in comfort.

I’ll stand with him just as he has stood with me. 

We’re friends, he knows my secrets and I trust him enough to give him the same courtesy that he has given me.

Afterall, we must start somewhere, and this is a good foundation to have, enough if there are a few lies in the foundation – I just hope it doesn’t crack under pressure.

* * *

There is a certain peace that falls over not just the city but also the Red Keep at the arrival of Lord Tywin.

This was the man who helped keep the Seven Kingdoms together as Hand of the King for twenty years, seeing Lord Tywin at my side must have made the picture as more hope could be felt in the air.

Even I relaxed marginally as I sit in front of Lord Tywin, with Ser Jaime sitting next to me as we both stare at his father.

“Do you wish to tell me how all this came to be?” I watched in fascination as the sideburns of Lord Tywin’s face moved in tandem as he spoke, he really did look like a lion with a mane.

“Rhaegar annulled our marriage, leaving me at Dragonstone while he met with Lyanna Stark and took her to the Tower of Joy in Dorne. Lord Ander Yronwood, a childhood friend from the Water Gardens had sent me a secret raven that I had intercepted before the maester could, and he told me he spotted Rhaegar, Lyanna, Oswell Whent and Arthur Dayne together. I wrote him telling him to be prepared to seize them but otherwise not to do anything else. I needed time to write to Doran and to get a letter to Oberyn.”

“When Aerys called me to the capital, I sent away my retinue, my good friend Ashara took sealed letters to my brother with instructions as I knew war was coming. I bided my time in the capital and only when Aerys died did I begin to move. I have already gotten Lord Varys and Lord Manly Stokeworth onside, as you know Grand Maester Pycelle also supports me. I have written Lady Rhaella and she knows the terms of our agreement, it is better for her to join us then side with the rebels who will surely make demands of House Targaryen, I am willing to be lenient with her and her children because they are as much a victim to Aerys and Rhaegar’s stupidity as I am. They bear no fault in this.”

I stress that because the last thing I need or want is Lord Tywin to send Gregor Clegane and Amory Loch to Dragonstone to kill Rhaella and her two children.

“Lady Rhaella shall be Lady Regnant of Dragonstone until Viserys comes of age and he will be Lord of Dragonstone. The Targaryen dynasty is finished.”

Silence follows and while Jaime slightly fidgets under his father’s gaze, I do not.

“You both have done things that cannot be taken back. A mummery show in front of the people about a knight and a princess. You’ve bought Lannister protection through deception.”

I scoff.

Tywin wants to argue morals and ethics with me? Okay.

“I offered her my cloak willingly father. Our mothers wanted us to marry or did you forget? Maybe mother and Princess Loreza saw something that we did not, and this is the gods way of wedding us, like we should have been married all those years ago.”

I look to Jaime in surprise and give him a tiny smile, genuinely surprised that he’s standing up to his father.

I knew he was the better man.

“So, you say, have you written the Tyrells? I imagine that they’re on the Trident with Rhaegar.”

“No, I have not, the Tyrells hate me, they hate my Dornishness as much as Aerys did but alas, I care not about that. I have written Baelor Hightower instead, my mother once hoped for us to marry, after the first betrothal between Jaime and I fell through and Old Town is the Hightower’s city. No matter Rhaegar annulling our marriage, the Hightowers won’t stand for him discarding me and choosing Lyanna instead. Later this evening the High Septon shall be coming and we will discuss the matter of my children and the annulment.”

“You plan to make Aegon your heir,” it’s a statement and not a question and I bite my lips before shaking my head.

“No, Rhaenys shall be my heir, the Crown Princess.”

At this, Tywin leans forward, obviously displeased.

“It is one thing for you to be Queen in your own right, Dornish at that and unlike Rhaegar I remember the Blackfyre Rebellion because I helped put them down.”

My hands clench into fist and I jut my chin out in defiance. I knew this would be an uphill battle, but I so desperately wanted this, for my daughter to have it all.

But I have gained much, and I cannot go back now so I play the only card I have when it comes to this matter.

“There have been many women rulers within these kingdoms in a man’s absence, contrary to popular belief, not to mention my agreement with Lord Varys. Lord Varys has a nephew in Pentos…a Valyrian nephew.”

I won’t tell Tywin that the boy is a Blackfyre, no…only Varys and I will know that.

“A good friend of Varys has dragon eggs, dragon eggs that shall be brought to Westeros, but I want to make sure that the incest of the Targaryens do not taint my children, so I am proposing a match. My Rhaenys shall marry Varys’ nephew, to align my goals with Varys’ own. Lady Cersei shall marry my brother, Prince Oberyn and their daughter shall marry Aegon. My grandchildren shall thus wed one another, giving room away from Targaryen inbreeding and allowing new Valyrian blood and non-Valyrian blood to be introduced into the lineage.”

I take a breath before I continue, “You shall be grandfather to the Crown Princess, along with being Hand of the Queen. Your grandchildren shall sit upon the Iron Throne, as you have always wanted. Aerys saw me as nothing more than a servant, he crossed me in a way he should not have just as he crossed you. I see no reason why we cannot come together and be family.”

I am not above breaking bread with the enemy when we have a common enemy in sight.

My heart is beating in my ears when the Old Lion finally answers.

* * *

When I think back to history, I wondered how Margaret Beaufort did it, how did she know to do what she did? How did she know that the plans she was making would come to fruition?

I think I know now, how she was able to keep going.

There was a book that Ryan once read called, ‘Ask and It Is Given’ where the narrator states that everything you want is already out in the universe, you just have to ask for it and work for it and it shall be yours.

I asked.

It has been given.

* * *

The day had been chaotic from Lord Tywin arriving and sitting down and meeting with him. To him giving the servants in the castle orders, and Grand Maester Pycelle sending out letters, sending out letters to the rebels most specifically.

It should not take long for Dornish forces to arrive, they should be here sooner than the rebel forces as the rebels must travel through the riverlands. This was all according to Lord Varys, who had his little spies working day in and day out, whores following behind camps were quite good as passing along messages to Varys little birds who gave them gold in turn. It further proved my point about having brothels under the protection of the Crown, if the spy network can work this good with multiple pieces coming together.

Dinner had been eaten with the whole of the small council with the High Septon coming to dine with us as we smoothed out details, because with my proposal of a grandchild of Tywin Lannister being on the Iron Throne, Tywin would want to ensure my annulment with Rhaegar stayed put, allowing me to marry Jaime without prejudice.

It was tiring, more tiring than I had thought as I made my way to my chambers, my emotions a whirlpool.

Lord Tywin asked for the truth about how Aerys died and I gave him the same demonstration that I had given Jaime in the privacy of the Tower of the Hand.

I knew that in order to solidify my rule and Rhaenys’ rule, I needed Oberyn to be a lord and so I proposed the idea of draining Castamere, because the Reynes had been the second richest of the west, only behind the Lannisters.

I made a point say how even in death the Reynes still work for House Lannister. I also proposed Tarbeck Hall to be rebuilt and refurbished, because I wanted Tyrion to also be a lord.

Lord Tywin did not seem so amused by that, but I reminded him that one only needs to look at the Targaryens and how dwindled they are, how House Stark has also dwindled in numbers and that seemed to change my soon to be father-in-law’s thought process.

The more Lannisters in power, the more Martells in power would soothe not just my reign but also later generations. With the deal I struck with Tywin, for draining Castamere I will take some of the gold and silver and rebuild Summerhall for Aegon, so that he may be Prince of Summerhall. He will be right in the middle, not far from Storm’s End and the Dornish Marches, with Lord Anders also being near, this would also help settle tensions in the marches.

Lord Tywin had agreed with my thought process and I was happy to see that our pragmatism was beneficial to the both of us. Lord Tywin was a great man, who did terrible deeds, but he had done them for his family, and I accepted that.

Now if only the other lords of Westeros could be the same way.

I can wish.

* * *

_Lord Robert Baratheon, My Stormlander Cousin,_

_I write to you in the hopes that once you finish reading this letter you will immediately make your way to the capital in haste._

_The words to which you are about to read are for your eyes and your eyes only, I hope you heed my counsel as you continue reading, as I am sure should others know about this letter, they will seek to stop you from getting retribution._

I had played upon the fact that Robert and I were cousins, just as distantly but we both hailed from Aegon the Conqueror. It helped to established that, to showcase that while Rhaegar was a piss poor cousin, I surely wasn’t as I am writing to him about the truth of the betrayals that were dealt to him.

_Daenerys Targaryen and Rhaelle Targaryen were both good women, women who did their duties to bring about peace to the realm and I have not forgotten that, and I hope you haven’t either._

_The realm has been in disarray and I write to tell you that Aerys is dead, after he tried to burn my son, his grandson in a cauldron of wildfire, the mad man himself told me he would show me ‘what a dragon was’ and just like Aerion Brightflame, he consumed the wildfire._

_I do not mourn the man for he was never kind to me and only offered me insults and tried to have my children killed._

_I can admit that I hold no love for Rhaegar for the shame he has brought upon the both of us. After Harrenhal, I had to keep my tongue, to mind myself not to cause a scene and had to wait until our return to Dragonstone to tell Rhaegar how I felt, but I am afraid cousin I was already too late._

_Lyanna Stark was the Knight of the Laughing Tree and Rhaegar was besotted with her as she was with him. While Rhaegar was a married man, and I had just given birth to his son and heir, he left Dragonstone and disappeared with nay a word._

_He took two loyal Kingsguards with him and he was gone._

_I later found out from a good childhood friend, Lord Anders Yronwood that Rhaegar and Lyanna were spotted in Dorne just past the Boneway as they hid out in a tower, the Tower of Joy that had been gifted by my own mother for my wedding._

_I am sorry cousin; I do not apologize for Rhaegar’s actions because they are his own, but I know how the betrayal of the heart feels, and I apologize for the wounds you have been dealt just as I have._

_I do not know how to say what I am about to say next, so I shall just do so._

_Rhaegar annulled our marriage and married Lyanna Stark while in Dorne, using Septon Farlen to do so, with his two Kingsguards as witnesses._

_I do not know why they have done this to us, but as a good and gracious as Daenerys Targaryen was when she accepted the marriage with Maron Martell, I have been good and gracious too._

_I beseech you to come to the capital, as I have Lyanna Stark in custody, with Lord Anders having seized her from the tower._

_If you seek answers cousin, come to the capital._

_Let us both find the answers to the questions that have plagued us since Harrenhal._

_Your Cousin,_

_Queen Elia Nymeros Martell_

_Witnesses: Lord Tywin Lannister, Hand of the Queen_

_Ser Jaime Lannister_

_Grand Maester Pycelle_

_Lord Varys_

* * *

There was a standstill between the loyalist and rebels because neither side knew what was going on in the capital since the gates had been closed and neither groups knew that Lord Tywin had sided with me nor that Dornish forces were sailing to the capital, not supplying loyalist forces with reinforcement.

As far as the rebels were concerned, they were wondering why Rhaegar hadn’t moved and wondering where the Dornish were as they were not on the battlefield.

The loyalist were concerned because the rebels haven’t done anything, who out of fear that should they move, the Dornish would encircle them and ensure their deaths. The loyalist were waiting on Dornish forces and considering the Stormlands were split between some being loyal to the Crown, some being loyal to Robert, it would be Stormlander fighting Stormlander.

When Grand Maester Pycelle sent off the letter to Robert, I had written it very carefully in the hopes that I would get him to the capital to see reason.

It had been a good letter; I had used all my wits to make both himself and I seem like the people who had been most hurt by House Targaryen.

I’ve become a good liar, I just tell myself to remember that anyone can be a good liar, you just need to believe in the lies as much as others do.

* * *

I sit down on my chaise, lounging as I stare out the open doors of my balcony, listening to the waves of the Blackwater hit the walls of the keep.

It is a comforting sound and presence, to have the ocean so near and I admire the way the full moon pushes and pulls the waves, a cathartic peace settles over me. My peace is only disturbed when I hear a knock at my door and I get up from my chaise, tying a silk robe around my nightgown before I answer the door.

Over the past few days, I’ve begun to make changes to my wardrobe, getting rid of the usual shifts that ladies wore in this world and replacing those linen gowns with bras and panties made from cotton and silk. King’s Landing was hot, and I had no idea how women were walking around in such heavy layers of clothes.

“Oh, Jaime! What are you doing here? Is something wrong?” I poke my head out of the door, looking up and down the hall to see that it is deserted except for the red cloaks that were posted up and down the hall.

“No, nothing is wrong, I just wanted to see you.”

I step aside, allowing him to enter my apartment, “are you thirsty or hungry? I can send a servant to bring you up something.”

“No, dinner was quite filling. I just wanted to speak with you,” Jaime stands before me, without his armor, instead wearing a Lannister red tunic with dark brown trousers and boots though his sword is still on his hip.

I make my way back over to the chaise, patting the empty seat behind me to get him to sit next to lounge – which he does – and we both sit in silence for a moment.

“Have you cried yet Elia?” His voice is like a ghost in the room and in this moment, I take a hard-good look at him.

His blonde curls are mussed as though he ran his hand through them just before coming into my room. His green eyes sparkle like emeralds and even his skin seems to be just as golden as his hair.

“I’m sorry, what did you say?” I snap my head forward towards him, focusing not on his face but on his person entirely.

“When my mother died, my father had remained stoic for a long while before he cried out in the sea. Even Cersei, who had been angry for weeks finally cried in my arms one night when she snuck into the training yard. I let her use my training sword as she slashed at the dummy. Both my father and sister cried when my mother died, yet you have not cried, it confuses me.”

At this I have to laugh, and it sounds so bitter, “you find this confuses you but not my magic? What an odd pair we make Jaime.”

My right hand grasps my left hand and I squeeze, trying to ignore the burning gaze that’s on the side of my face.

“Do you believe in reincarnation? That what you don’t have or can’t do in one life, you are able to do in the next? That maybe the gods, or God, or even Fortuna is kind enough to grant us that?”

“I’ve never been religious; my father certainly isn’t. My mother died giving birth to Tyrion when she deserved to live. I wish I had more time with her, I hate that I appreciate her now more in death than I did when she was alive. My father use to be happy, Cersei too. Tyrion never even got to meet mother; but if there was a chance that I could have her again, be a better son in another life? I would welcome the possibility of that.”

I take a huff of air and suck in my bottom lip, “would you believe me if I said I already lived two lives, or would you think me just as mad as Aerys?”

* * *

At some point the lies can be exhaustive and you just want to pull off your mask.

To allow someone to see your true face and not have them flinch away from you. For someone to _see_ you and not the person you present yourself to be.

The existential crisis that I should have had when I first woke up in this world is happening now, and I hate myself for this moment of weakness because I’ve been on ‘go’ for so long and then Jaime asks me stupid questions like “are you alright?” or “have you cried?” and I finally have to face myself and remove the mask that I put on.

I’m not okay.

And I hate that I’m not.

Because I can tell all the lies I want, I can tell myself that it will be okay, but in the end I don’t really know that, I don’t know much about anything because I’m still the girl who misses her father. I’m still the wife who misses her days not as a princess but as a daughter of Dorne in the Water Gardens.

At times, it feels like I’m in a dream and nothing is real but then I only need to look down and see that it is. To see that the hands attached to my arms are very much real, that I have power dwelling inside me that proves so.

But that’s the thing about lies, if you keep telling them then you soon start to believe in them and all I have is faith in myself that I can do what I set out to do.

That everything I’ve asked for and I’m asking for shall be given to me.

I just want to be okay.

* * *

My voice is detached as I tell my story and I feel as crazy as I must look as I stand outside on the balcony, having long since gotten up from my seat next to Jaime. I stare down at the waves hitting the stone wall, as the moonlight is reflected on the surface of the waves.

“So that is why you know what to do, why you are making all these decisions.”

“To be forewarned is to be forearmed Jaime, I know what happens to my children if I don’t secure my reign, what happens to me. Is it so wrong to want to live? To see myself grow old and see my children grow up? I killed a king, not because I wanted to, but because I needed to, because I had to. What do you see when you look at me Jaime? Who am I to you? You have risked your life for mine and now you know my secrets.”

I had begun speaking the truth before I could really stop myself, but then again, I do not think my deeper conscious wanted me to stop.

I think I wanted to finally admit the truth, and Jaime has been trustworthy so far, I can only pray that Lady Fortuna be so kind and keep to this fate, that Jaime won’t ever betray me to my enemies.

While Lord Tywin knows of my magic, that is it. He doesn’t know about all of _this_ and I am sure if I told him he would grow suspicious of me and I can’t have that.

“I see a mother, willing to do whatever it took to protect her children. You remind me of my mother in that way. But I also see you, I saw you at the tourney of Harrenhal also when Rhaegar passed you. Your face didn’t crumple but you stood up and left with grace. I see you now, wading through a storm that was not of your making, but you’ve made a drift anyway and you’re trying to swim to shore.”

My shoulders feel so heavy, they feel so damning and then I laugh, “and here I thought Rhaegar was the poetic one. You are a good man Jaime, the better man by far. Not many men would do what you did, defying your father to marry me. You’ve got balls of steel.”

Jaime is leaning against the balcony staring down at me and I can hear him scoff in response, “does it take being a man to do the right thing? That’s one thing I’ve always struggled with, doing the right thing, wanting to be a knight as worthy as my peers.”

“But yet, they are not here, and you are. Rhaegar left you here, to ‘protect’ his family but I wonder if there was malicious intent behind it. All the fabled members of the Kingsguard are away from the capital, bar my uncle who was in Dorne on my orders. If Rhaegar had left any of the other knights in your place, would they have taken my hand in marriage for my protection or would they have waited for Rhaegar to arrive with his new wife while I was carted off? Would they have went up to the nursery and grabbed Aegon to bring to Aerys so that he could kill him? I find myself wondering that but deep down, I think I know the answer and I think you do too. I think that’s why you did what you did, for all that it was a spur of the moment decision, it was the right one.”

We are standing closer now, my arm pressed against one of his and the added warmth from his muscles are nice.

“I’ve had thoughts about killing Aerys before. He liked me to guard him, thinking it was an insult to my father as he did so. Every time I heard the queen cry, I wanted to run him through with my sword, but I couldn’t, I didn’t.” His hands grip the metal railing as he stares off into the far distance, thinking about past mistakes.

“If anyone ever tells me they never thought of killing Aerys, they’re a liar. I only wish I could have done it sooner but even I did not wish to find out the consequences from moving too early. If Rhaegar returned while my support was away, if I hadn’t manifested my magic…I can only see one outcome happening.”

“Thank you,” I blurt out, realizing I have not thanked him yet.

“I did not expect you to believe me and it feels nice saying this out loud, because it does not sound as crazy as it does in my mind,” I smile faintly.

“You are descended from Daenys the Dreamer, who am I to deny a descendant of hers, who saved her family from the Doom.”

“The very same Doom that some believe was cursed by Garin the Great, Prince of Chroyane. Fate is very strange,” I murmur into the night.

“You still have not cried, Elia. You deserve it, above all else, you deserve it.”

At this I choke back a sob because I don’t want to cry.

I swear I don’t.

* * *

I cry into the night, my face buried in Jaime’s chest because I miss so many people that are not mine to miss and I miss the women I used to be.

So sweet and untainted by the world, I used to be.

I weep.

My hands fist into Jaime’s tunic as I try not to let go, because I’ve been drifting out at sea for long and someone has been kind enough to throw me a rope.

It’s his kindness that makes me weep more, because I’m not a good person, far from it but I want to be.

I want to be so badly.

* * *

The sounds that leave my throat are the sounds a wounded animal would make; a bear just having freed itself from a trap, a fox who has had to fight for their way out from an attack and they are limping along; a bird trying to fly with one wing.

Ryan misses her mother, and that grief is strong because she told her mom she would be around, picking up the slack from when her father died and now her mother is all alone.

She misses her cousins, misses singing with them as she brushed their hair, as they played in her curls. She missed driving around the country in Texas with her dad in his Corvette, as her dad ripped through the gears, kicking up dust as they went.

Elia misses her own father, the way she would sit on his lap as his strong hands would braid her hair with all the gentleness in the world. She misses her youth, of feeling free in the Gardens, where status did not matter. She hungers to see her brothers again, to see Oberyn who had died in her name, to see Doran who ruined his own relationship with his wife and daughter because he was too consumed by vengeance but didn’t know it.

It hurts, this pain.

It hurts.

* * *

I don’t remember when Jaime moves me to the bed, but I keep my eyes closed because I just don’t want to see anything right now.

I have seen too much, I’ve done too much, and I just want to see the blackness behind my eyelids if only for a few hours.

Just a moment of peace, just a moment of safety, that’s all.

There’s peace in darkness just like there is peace in death, I should know better than most.

* * *

We are woken by servants who come into the room, obviously surprised by our entanglement, with my body curling into Jaime’s.

Some of them even blush different shades of pink and red.

What a sight we must look like, Jaime’s sword is discarded on the table, along with his boots next to the bed and I am still in my robe, not disturbed by the night’s chill because Jaime had been kind enough to let me use his body as my personal heater.

I know my eyes are puffy, they feel puffy but I keep my head buried in Jaime’s chest, allowing the servants to work around us and I wish to remain in this little bubble of peace that Jaime has given me but I know I cannot.

I untangle myself from him, pushing some curls behind my ears as Jaime is staring up at me with a look in his eyes I cannot place.

I pull a pillow onto my lap as I sit down on my haunches facing him, as I open my mouth to speak, he does so before I can, “are you feeling better, Elia?”

It’s the question I asked him after we had danced in the silence of the night with only my humming to accompany us.

I move without thinking, pressing my soft lips to his before sliding out of bed, “yes, I feel much better now, thank you.”

* * *

A crush, who was I kidding.

I try not to think about it as I go to the nursery after I am dressed, sitting with Rhaenys as plays with her dolls while I get Aegon to stand on his feet, trying to teach him how to walk.

A fool in love because I cried onto a man’s chest and he didn’t judge me.

I never said I was infallible.

* * *

It was a few days later in the small council when things came to head finally.

The door to the chamber had been slammed open by a servant, “there are ships spotted in the Blackwater!”

I was alarmed because I did not believe Lady Rhaella would arrive so quickly, but Lord Tywin is thinking ahead of me, “what standard are they flying, speak boy!”

The whole room is holding their breath before the servant boy answers, “it’s just solid gold!”

Sellswords aren’t very common in Westeros and that probably explains why the boy doesn’t know the sigil of the Golden Company – but I do.

I feel myself turning into putty in my seat and I take a moment to catch my breath before I stand, my mouth slowly forming into a smile, excitement engulfing me.

“He did it, oh, he did it.” I whisper under my breath, undertaken by a wave of gratitude because I had no idea if Oberyn had managed to get the Golden Company, I had hoped, even prayed to Lady Fortuna, but I hadn’t known.

He must have come straight here, not even bothering to stop in Dorne, sailing right past it as he come for me.

My feet are moving before I know what to do with them, my heart calling out to the baby brother I had been inseparable with when we were young. The amount of gratitude that overtakes me is drowning as I leave the small council chamber, my feet moving quicker and quicker until I’m jogging, before I begin to sprint, not caring about the way this looks as I blitz through the corridors and halls.

My brother has returned to me, my faith in him had been tried and true and he came through for me.

It is not fit for a queen to be running, but I am _the_ queen.

I can run if I damn well want to.

* * *

“Oberyn!” I call out, my feet still carrying me and I feel as though I am floating, not minding the startled looks I am getting as I grab onto my gown, so that I do not trip over my own two feet.

“Oby!” I yell out, and I can see when my brother finally hears me because he turns his head as he disembarks from his ship, with men following him before he begins moving to meet me.

There are only a few people who would dare call the Red Viper of Dorne, ‘Oby’ and I am one of them.

When our bodies crash into each other I immediately take in his scent, he smells of the salt of the sea, of spices of Dorne but he smells like Oberyn, sweet Oberyn.

He hugs me tight to his body, and I do the same to him because it feels so nice to have him by my side, to be in front of me now.

“Elia, I had feared I would be too late, I feared,” he whispers to me in the language of the Rhoynar, these words not meant for anyone else, especially not to the people who are watching our reunion.

“I am here. You are here, that’s all that matters,” because I know the kind of scenarios he must have imagined that might have befallen me and a large part of me is happy to have spared him that fate by allowing his eyes to feast upon me.

I notice his slight frown when he looks at my lips, my split lip still healing and I smile at him, “the man who did it died by my own hand.”

Oberyn raises his eyebrows, “you picked up a sword and ran a man through?”

“No, I bit the artery in his neck and watched him bleed out at my feet.”

“And they call me the Red Viper!”

At this, Oberyn throws back his head and laughs, spinning me around and I allow him to, giving him a genuine smile before I laugh too, obviously so happy to see him but we are interrupted by a cough and I look up to see Jaime watching us, along with the small council members.

We stop but I immediately put my arms through his, not wanting to break our connection, not wanting to be farther from him than I need to be.

“Well brother, you have impeccable timing as always, we were in the middle of a council meeting. Come along, so much has happened. Ser Harry, you are most welcome to come along. Ser Ben you are welcome also.”

“Let us go then, sweet sister. Allow me to also see my sweet niece and nephew too.”

I nod my head eagerly, smiling more openly as I walk with Oberyn, with my council members behind me and I feel more relaxed, as though a piece of me has been returned.

* * *

To be or not to be, that is the question.

I choose to be brutal when I must but kind when I am allowed.

Death to my enemies but sweet honey to my friends.

Posted: 08/17/2020

Edited: 08/17/2020

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, things are heating up. I just got a job offer and I have no idea when I'll be going in for in service so yeah, whew busy busy busy. Fuck. 
> 
> I also can't decide how many chapters I want for this, like I said 8 but this is a short fic so many 4 or 5? shit I don't fucking know but I'll just put 4 so far. next chapter will be Dornish forces arriving, rhaella coming, Baratheon showing up to court and finally rhaegar. last chapter will be the wedding and coronation and the ~wedding night~ oh yeah.
> 
> I've been on tumblr a lot lately, more than usual because twitter is exhausting and the conversations I see on twitter are nothing more than a rinse, wash, repeat from conversations I've partaken in and seen on tumblr 4 years ago. But anyways, I was reading a post that made the parallel between Naerys, Aemon and Aegon IV to Elia, Arthur and Rhaegar; however for this fic obviously Arthur will be replaced with Jaime (I love Elia with either, so long as its not Rhaegar lol and my next crack fic will be Elia/Arthur but anyways) and I can't help but fucking agree??
> 
> I also thought it was so damn interesting, given Daenerys is the daughter of Naerys and the many time great grandmother of Elia, it would be a could parallel between their frailness and the idea that it was inherited from Elia's Targaryen ancestry. I mean fuck Aegon for seriously not leaving Naerys alone (stares blankly at Rhaegar) when the maester warned them that another birth could kill Naerys (cough cough, continues to stare at Rhaegar) but Aegon was just like "haha fuck that noise, what i say goes derpy derp!" and Idk why the similarities didn't strike me sooner and I'm so happy a found a post that talked about this. 
> 
> So yeah, this will totally be a rendition of Naerys and Aemon along the lines of "A knight finally remembers what being a knight is about and decides fuck the king, fuck the prince and fuck everyone else as a matter of fact."


	3. Judgement Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rebels and traitors alike arrive in the capital to face judgement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: forced spontaneous abortion

“And now...farewell to kindness, humanity and gratitude. I have substituted myself for Providence in rewarding the good; may the God of vengeance now yield me His place to punish the wicked.”

-Alexandre Dumas, The Count of Monte Cristo

I stood facing the balcony, looking down at the people of King’s Landing, who looked nothing more than ants as they scurried this way and that.

“The wolf is with child; she is a threat.” Tywin’s voice was cold, and you only needed to look at history to see what the Old Lion of Lannister did to threats against his house.

“I agree, Anders should’ve shoved moon tea down her throat and had been done with it, before she was brought to the capital.” My eldest brother, Doran spoke with the same amount of coolness.

As I kept staring out into the open, I took a moment to steel myself as I thought about my options.

“Rhaegar, the fucking fool,” Oberyn’s voice was nothing short of a hiss.

I thought about what I knew, of Lyanna Stark dying in a lone tower with winter roses surrounding her, with bloodied sheets clinging to her body as sure as death and even the prospect of her dying is no comfort to me.

I _burned_ to have her and Rhaegar brought before me on their knees as they were subjugated to my power, but alas, the wolf is heavy with child and Rhaegar is still at the Trident, waiting. He’ll learn soon enough to return to the capital once Ser Sandor Clegane, Lady Larra Blackmont and Ser Tygett Lannister reach the empty battlefield and bring him to her.

Jaime fortunately is not here but with my children and I am glad that he won’t have to take part in the decisions that will be made in this room, right here, right now.

It would not be the first time in history that a mistress never gave any thought to the lawful wife, but in a way I really couldn't blame Lyanna for that because I wondered what sweet whispers did Rhaegar whisper in her ear as he fucked her, probably the same way he used to fuck me before I gave birth to Aegon.

Whatever it was, the dumb girl fell for it, and she helped get her brother, father and plenty of northern men killed for it.

Tina Turner made a good point by asking what’s love got to do with it.

Nothing, nothing at all and I am sure Lyanna is probably learning that lesson now as she's sequestered in her rooms.

“I shall speak to the new Lady Targaryen and hear from her own lips why she acted the way she did. I want to keep Ser Oswell Whent and Ser Arthur Dayne on guard over the girl, they chose their allegiance and so they shall keep to them, until further decided.” I leave no room for discussion as I walk out with my cousin, Myria Gargalen following me.

When Whent and Dayne had first been brought before me, I had wanted them flogged to death, but then I decided to let them keep guarding the Stark girl, I knew what would happen next and I want no one to place the blame on me.

I said I would be sweet to my friends, but Lyanna Targaryen née Stark is no friend of mine.

* * *

I walk down the corridors with my uncle Ser Lewyn and Ser Gerion Lannister at my back, as we stand just outside Lyanna’s door where Oswell and Arthur are guarding it, who both eye me warily.

Cowards, they wanted to guard the bitch while in Dorne but had the gall to look insulted when I didn’t put them on active service to guard me, _as if_.

“Her Grace wants to speak to Lady Targaryen,” Ser Gerion spoke for me.

I had made it a mission to keep reiterating Lyanna’s new status as Rhaegar’s wife, let no one forget who she is now, let no one forget that she went willingly.

“Of course, Your Grace?” It was Whent who answered, and it tickled me how whenever he addressed me, he never seemed sure of my title. He’ll learn soon enough that I am here to stay and that I will reign long.

Arthur avoids my eyes, but I feel nothing for him but disappointment and latent anger because where was the solidarity as he watched Rhaegar take another wife, fucked her and annulled our marriage?

The door is opened by him and I step inside, I am met with the back of Lyanna who is staring out of her window. She has been kept under lock and key, though her favorite knights may be outside the doors, there are red cloaks and Dornishmen that guard them altogether – lest those two knights get any funny ideas.

“Lady Targaryen, I have come to speak with you.” I walk towards the chaise and sit down, making myself comfortable as I look around the room in boredom.

I can admit that I only saw Lyanna in passing at Harrenhal and I barely gave her a look when she had been brought to the capital. She's pretty enough, a long face that she'll eventually grow into. I bet she thought it would be Aerys who she would face, her dead good father because I am sure she had not thought to ever face me. Oh, I am sure she never gave much thought for me and that’s a pity, if she had she would have, _should_ have tread more carefully; she wouldn’t have hid in my homeland and made the insult ten times worse.

Pity, truly.

Now as I stand before her, I wonder what she sees, because I know how I feel as I stare at her and her round belly and I hope she hasn’t gotten attached to the idea of children, she won’t have anymore of Rhaegar’s children, not so long as I still draw breath in my bones and Dorne remains sandy.

“My name _is_ Lyanna Stark,” she barks out to me and it tickles me in a way, _ah,_ the first stage of grief – denial.

What a shocking reality to have, to one day be fucking your new husband as you escape the world and then be captured by Dornish guards as you are informed that your brother and father are dead, no thanks to you and a madman…well…madmen I suppose. Rhaegar must have surely bumped his head if he thought I would lay down and take not just his infidelity but the annulment silently.

“Oh? Did Rhaegar Targaryen not annul his marriage in Dorne and marry you? The High Septon has declared your marriage and the annulment valid. You _are_ Lady Lyanna Targaryen.”

Forever you shall remain. You wanted the bondage of marriage and I shall give it to you.

“Lord Robert Baratheon is on his way to the capital; he has some answers and I imagine you are the only one who will be able to supply him with them. It's the _least_ you can do, for the man who spilt blood in your name, thinking you had been kidnapped and raped. I am sure your brother, Ned, shall arrive with his foster-brother,” I state, watching her reaction to my words.

“I didn’t love Robert! Gods, I didn’t want to marry him!”

“Ah, you wanted to marry a married man and father of two instead, instead of man with a bastard – yes I am coming to see your reasoning quite clearly,” I mocked.

“I never wanted this to happen! I never thought Brandon or father would…” her voice trails off and I roll my eyes.

“That is what family does, you foolish girl. Your brother and father loved you and they thought to rescue you, to bring you home.” My reprimand was heavy in the air, as the girl looked as though she would cry, her eyes already puffy.

“What do you want from me?” Her eyes are gray as she glares at me, but I am not phased by her gaze. I’ve had to deal with Aerys looking at me as though I was nothing, she _is_ nothing in comparison to that.

“From you, nothing. You have tried to take a lot from me, you took my husband, but he was a fool anyway, so I care not for him. But you tried to take away my children’s livelihoods, you tried to take away their inheritance and well…that I cannot forgive.” I collect my breath before I continue, “I bet you never gave much regard for me. Not at Harrenhal and certainly not at the tower, did you know my mother gave Rhaegar and I that tower for our wedding? What must it felt like Lyanna, tell me, to fuck my husband in my tower, in my bed, in my homeland?”

“I didn’t know,” she spoke quietly and at this I laughed.

“Oh, which did you not know, that my husband was married, that he had two children, both whom I almost died laboring with, or that you were in Dorne, in my tower? I assure you, though sand may blanket Dorne like the snow does the North, one does not mistake sand for anything but for what it is,” and I hold in my temper to not throttle the girl where she stands.

“He told me he loved me,” she tries but fails to continue and I can see how her justifications fall short now that she is faced with the consequences of her actions.

1 Corinthians 11:31 states, "But if we were more discerning with regard to ourselves, we would not come under such judgment."

“Perhaps if you gave more regard for others, you would not find yourself in such a predicament but fear not, I am merciful. You shall return North with your brother when he arrives if he lays down his arms. You will remain North until the end of your days, if you step one toe out line, I shall have you executed.”

I rise up from my seat, straightening my gown but I am stopped from leaving as Lyanna walks forward, holding her stomach, “what of my child?”

“I care not for the child you whelped for Rhaegar, let the gods judge you for the rest of your transgressions, I have seven kingdoms to rule.”

“Wait! May I go to the godswood? I would like to pray for my brother and father, please.” Her voice sounds so small and with my back turned I try to keep the shock off my face as an idea begins to form in my mind.

“I shall give Oswell and Arthur permission to escort you, good day, Lady Targaryen.”

When I exit her rooms, I stand in front of the two knights, “your lady wishes to go pray in the godswood, you shall escort her there and keep her safe from harm, as you have been doing for the past year.”

Arthur actually has the audacity to flinch from my words, but I wouldn’t be quick to let them forget about their transgressions.

Both knights nod their heads and I leave Maegor’s Holdfast to return to the council rooms, to collect Oberyn.

* * *

I am walking the gardens with Oberyn as we speak in hushed whispers, “what are you going to do about the child, you know that child will be a threat to my niece and nephew.”

The gardens are lovely in the afternoon and I cannot help myself but bend down and smell the pretty gazanias that are growing, in their different shades of yellow, orange and red.

“I have faith that things will work themselves out, baby brother. Do not fret over the wolf girl, she shall be dealt with as soon as her brother arrives. Knowing Eddard Stark, after losing his brother and father to such foolishness, he will lay down his arms and take his sister home.”

“What about the marriage, will you send Rhaegar to the wall?” Oberyn presses on.

“Oh Oby, the septon who wedded me said, 'cursed be he who would seek to tear them asunder.' I have no wish to be cursed by breaking apart a marriage. No, I will not send Rhaegar to the Wall, I figured since he loves Dorne so much, why not let him stay there?”

Oberyn’s grin is just as large as mine as we stare at each other, our laughs making the birds flutter from their branches.

* * *

The wolf girl goes to the godswood in the evening, her guards with her as she tries to dodge the nasty looks she receives throughout the Red Keep.

I stand in the shadows, far enough away where her knights do not see me and I focus my sight on the girl, my right hand raised as I stare at her stomach.

Like what I did with Aerys, I used great concentration as my fingers fluttered, methodical as moved my feet, sliding my left foot forward as I made my left hand into a swiping motion.

She would not give Rhaegar any children, not even this one.

* * *

The cries throughout the godswood can be heard, as I watch the girl fall forward towards the tree of her gods, the red faces weeping, just like the blood that runs down her thighs.

* * *

I walk back to my towards my apartments, wanting to see my own children as I try to soften the fast pacing of my heart.

I am a terrible person, but I won’t apologize for my actions. Not when I know what happened to my own children, Lyanna got a nicer fate as her stomached contracted and she labored out a stillborn son.

Better to have been brutalized in the womb, than in the flesh.

* * *

There isn’t a lot a mother wouldn’t do in order to ensure her children survived.

There isn’t a lot a woman wouldn’t do in order to right the injustices that she’s faced.

I may be winning thus far, but I won’t take the pressure off just because I am ahead. Until that crown is seated firmly on my head, more blood shall flow until it does.

You either win or died, you played for keeps.

I knew what I was getting into the moment I decided not to run, because I wouldn’t have stepped up if I couldn’t keep up.

Lady Fortuna saw fit to reset the board, but I wasn’t going to play by the rules of others.

Not now and not ever.

* * *

“It seems the child was lost, it was a boy,” Grand Maester Pycelle spoke, his forged chains rattling as he got more comfortable in his seat.

“She prayed in front of her gods and got their answer. Let us be done with this matter, Lady Rhaella is soon to arrive, heavy with child – may I add. I wish to have the best maesters and healers available for her. She has suffered enough in the birthing bed before and I do not wish to see anymore dead babes,” I stared down all my council members.

I got looks from Tywin and my brothers, they obviously suspected I had a hand in the chit’s stillbirth. No one would be able to blame me, considering both knights were near the girl when she began to bleed.

“I want the keep prepared, not just for Lady Rhaella and her son, but also for the rebel lords, as I am sure Robert will bring Jon Arryn and Eddard Stark with him.”

Ned Stark was still close to Robert, obviously Robert with his temper would tell his foster-father and foster-brother, no matter my warning that he shouldn’t. It will further sow the divide between the foster-brothers when Robert learns the truth about his former betrothed.

“Let us adjourn this meeting until tomorrow when Lady Rhaella arrives.” I am tired, for it has been a long day.

“I will walk you to your rooms,” Jaime offers, and I nod my head, giving him a tug at the lips, thankful.

“Thank you.”

* * *

Only is it when we get inside my chambers and the door close does Jaime push me up against the door, his eyes boring down into mine.

“Did you do it?” He asked, the emotions in his voice are carefully masked and I cannot tell if he is angry or not.

“I can neither confirm nor deny,” I speak, my face just as blank as his.

“Why, _if_ you did? You already said you’d banish her North.” Confusion creeps into his voice and I sigh, reaching up to cup his face, admiring the stubble of the beard he has been growing, making him look more mature.

“ _Hypothetically_ , the child may have been legitimate, others would see the child as a Blackfyre and given that I am Dornish, I do not forget my history. I know it will be some work to get the rebels to fall in line, but fortunately for us, Rhaegar and Lyanna have done half the work. They see Rhaegar and see what _could_ have been, that he annulled our marriage for no other reason but for a young girl, and then to have that girl miscarry her child in the godswood, the tree of her gods? The people already whisper how angry the gods are with the Targaryens and Starks.”

Maybe I’m taking my Olivia Pope persona too far, but people always turn towards their gods when they are in despair, hoping that a prayer will answer them. Let them see what happens to those who stray from their marriage and tear apart a home, your life will be ruined, your baby snatched form your womb.

If it kept everyone in line, so be it.

Niccolò Machiavelli stated in _The Prince_ , “[Is it] better to be loved than feared or feared than loved? It may be answered that one should wish to be both, but, because it is difficult to unite them in one person, it is much safer to be feared than loved.”

The common people already love me for taking the helm and correcting the wrongs Aerys committed, for bowing before them in the hope of protection and being honest with them. Dorne and the West love me because on one hand, House Martell is loved by their subjects and it is another opportunity for a Dornish queen to sit the throne – not just as a consort, but a queen in her own right; for the West, by marrying the heir to Casterly Rock, their new lady shall not just be their Lord’s wife, when Tywin dies but also the queen, their overlord’s son shall be a prince consort and his heirs shall be princes and princesses.

Varys likes and respects me because we are not above scruples for getting what we want and we understand that about one another, by binding his nephew with my daughter, he knows whichever child they have, it shall be seated after Rhaenys. Not to mention his secret hatred for House Targaryen, because he is a Blackfyre.

Rhaella loves me and I hope she is amenable to my plans, for I do not wish to take action against her if I can help it, but she choose her youngest son and unborn child and that gives me hope she is able to see reason.

“If you are looking for me to apologize for what you _think_ I did, then I am afraid you are looking in the wrong place. I am not looking for absolution. Not for past actions I took nor will I look for it in the future. I love my children, I damn neared died bringing them into this world and I shall secure them by any means necessary because I know, no one else will.”

I didn’t want to explain myself, not to Jaime but I wanted him to see reason, that it had to be me that made these hard decisions and I couldn’t start wavering in them just because the morals and ethics of my actions were questionable.

“I know that Elia, but please if we are to be partners, we need to discuss…matters like these before you act on it. Let me help you,” my knight, my betrothed is pleading with me and I lean forward, bringing his head down for our foreheads to touch.

“Of course, I’m sorry for not keeping you informed, forgive me Jaime. I am so used to doing things on my own.” Which wasn’t even a lie, outside of the letters I had sent while at Dragonstone, I had been acting on my own.

“My parents were partners; my mother had my father’s ear and he hers. Do not lock me out,” His hands are holding my face just as fiercely I am holding his and this is not the first time that my heart feels like it is being squeezed, as though a ghostly hand has reached into its chamber and is caressing it.

I think it started when I cried in his arms, my cries of anguish engulfing the rooms as he held me close.

“I do not know much about marriage outside of what I saw between my parents, but I know loyalty. My mother supported my father, I wish to support you.”

Bless Joanna Lannister for giving her heart and devotion to her eldest son. If Rhaegar had showed only an ounce of this, I wouldn’t have taken his throne from him, but alas he did not.

“You’ll have me, so long as you’ll keep me,” rearing my head back and staring up at him.

Marriages are tricky things; the gods know Elia knows that as does Ryan. No marriage is easy, no marriage is without it faults, but a friendship and partnership as a foundation for it?

I can deal with that.

Jaime seems to be of like mind before he dips his head down and kisses me, his lips brushing against mine, softly before he presses me closer to him. His lips are soft against mine, and I open my mouth slightly when I feel his tongue pressing against the seam of my lips, before his own tongue meets mine. It is a soft caress between our tongues, our breathing heavy and I can hear the sound of waves in my ears, as I pull him closer.

I am touch starved, starved from the emotional support I found lacking in my previous marriage and when we pull ourselves apart, I wonder if he feels as dazed as I do, while his thumb traces my now swollen bottom lip.

“I’ll keep you; I’ll have you. This was always meant to be, our mothers decided long before others did.”

Our lips meet again and I can’t find much argument in that.

* * *

No matter what you are or who you are, there is nothing wrong with being in love with the idea of love. There are so many different types of love to consider: agape, eros, philia, philautia, storage, pragma, ludus and probably the worst one, mania.

I have experienced many, but never pragma. Anyone can think themselves in love and experience eros, I need to only look at Rhaegar and Lyanna to see how quickly that loved burned not just themselves but innocent bystanders.

But pragma, enduring love? Something that withstands and does burn out so easily because it endures.

Ryan cannot help but think of 1 Corinthians 13:7, “Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endure all things.” Ryan’s father had been religious, and she had been too growing up, but both her parents and later she, separated themselves from religion and found spiritualism to be better fitting.

Elia had experienced eros with Arthur during their youth at the Water Gardens, it had been innocent and no one got burned, but their love had been like a candle and each hour that passed, each day that passed, they both knew it wouldn’t last.

But I cannot help but draw strength from passages of texts that only exists in my mind, because of all the physical strength I have, for all the pain and death I can cause with my hands, it feels nice not to have to endure this alone.

These lovely bones need not be worn down before I am even old enough to get my first gray hairs.

Jaime says he will keep me, I will hold him to that.

* * *

I’m standing in Lyanna’s rooms again the next morning, as I watch her lay about in bed, pale and despondent.

“Are you here to gloat?” She asks as she clutches the covers closer to her chest, as if that would protect her from my wrath.

I could, I could bust out the electric slide, begin shaking my ass or even do some spirit fingers, but I’m not here to be party to her depression for long, as she bemoans the choices she made. It’s not like I could give a damn, not really.

“The Grand Maester says you will recover nicely. I have sent word to Rhaegar about your miscarriage, I am sure your husband wishes to be by your side, during this difficult time.”

Or do you wish it were Brandon by your side, holding your hand? Maybe even your father as he pats your head and tells you it’ll be okay?

“I don’t care!”

“Of course, you don’t, but this is your reality now. When you go back North with your brother, I want you to pass Winterfell’s training yard, I want you to hear your brother’s ghostly laughter. When you eat in the great hall, I want you to see your father’s visage and know that he should be the one sitting in the lord’s seat and not his second eldest son. When you return North, I want you to never return, Starks don’t do well in the south, you’d do well to remember that.”

“Why are you so cruel?”

“I am what this world made me, Lady Targaryen. Before Rhaegar crowned you at Harrenhal and embarrassed me, annulled my marriage, and bastardized my children, I was a sweet woman. You’ll have to forgive me for being less kind, when I know that this world has no kindness for myself and my babes.”

Did you have any kindness for me when you held onto that crown of roses at Harrenhal? Did you have any kindness when you accepted Rhaegar’s attention instead of turning him away.

Correct that she owed me no loyalty, but as a woman? There’s just certain aspects of the girl code that shouldn’t be broken.

* * *

I spent the late morning with my children, after they had eaten their breakfast. Aegon’s eyes are droopy and I put him in his crib, running my index finger along the shape of his face, marveling at the softness.

At what age does the softness goes away, leaving only hardness?

“Mama,” my attention is thwarted to my daughter who stands in front of me, her curls held back by a braid and I notice she has a brush in her hand.

“Yes, little sun?” I walk us towards the next room, so we do not disturb Egg.

“Brush my hair? Please. I want it to look like yours,” she thrusts the brush into my hands, and I smile nodding my head, “Yes, Your Highness," causing her to giggle.

When I sit with the children, I can forget just for a moment the chaos that surrounds me, because in the nursery, in these rooms the outside does not get inside.

“Will you sing mama?”

I knew plenty of songs, songs from Elia and Ryan both and I thought about one that could really describe how I felt in this moment of peace.

“Sometimes these walls seems to cave in on me.

When I look in your eyes, I feel alive.

Some days we say words that don’t mean a thing.

But when your holding me tight, I feel alive…”

* * *

Small council meetings are a daily occurrence, but as I sit with my council with Jaime by my side, my brothers and the rest of my allies, ruling doesn’t seem as hard.

Maybe that’s the key to this whole thing, having true council with you and not just lords that will give you empty platitude and feeble minds.

I do not need blind loyalty but instead council that I can heed and not disregard.

The Seven Kingdoms is bleeding and it has been bleeding for too long.

All the queen’s horses and all the queen’s men shall put back together the Seven Kingdoms again.

* * *

I do not receive Rhaella in the throne room, I imagine the woman is very tired of being summoned to the throne room and instead, we sit out in the gardens.

When lunch is served, I watch the former queen consort as she eats, noticing the litany of scars that she tried to cover up with her gown and make-up.

Jesus Christ, Aerys was a monster.

It seemed that her body was finally able to heal some scars, because they had not been immediately reopened since Rhaella had spent months away from Aerys.

“I must thank you for bringing Lord Lucerys onside. I know this couldn’t have been easy, choosing your children, believe me I know.”

If there was anyone I felt sorry for in all of this, it was Rhaella because I can imagine the disappointment that she is going through. Her life had been traded to her brother by her parents all because of a woods witch and words of prophecy. She then watched her family burn and die at Summerhall and then was trapped in an abusive marriage with her monster of a brother.

What it must have been like, to have Rhaegar as a son, so promising in everything and thinking he would be the one to free you, when all he did was set the realm ablaze with his father.

“When I was told of who I was to marry, only my aunt and uncle, Rhaelle and Ormund and your own mother protested against it. But my parents did not listen, did not heed their words, and look what has become of my family,” I can hear how her voice cracks before Rhaella begins to break down and cry.

I pitied her, I truly did.

I removed myself from my seat, walking around the garden table and pull her hands into my own as I crouch down in front of her.

“I am so sorry, so sorry, Rhaella. I wish I could have done more than a few bandages here and there. But know, I do not hold you accountable for your son, for you raised him as best as you could, as best as you were _allowed_. You did what you could, but Aerys and Rhaegar were and are men grown, you are not responsible for their actions.”

“I don’t know where I went wrong with Rhaegar, I tried so hard, so hard. But he started reading those tomes, started writing my uncle Aemon and then… _this_ happens.”

Rhaella had been nothing more than a sex slave to her brother-husband and she had waited like a princess trapped in a tower, for her son to finally step up and do the right thing and depose his father and he did nothing. He ran off with a girl and left his mother alone to abuse and rapes for a year.

Life wasn’t fair, not at all but why couldn’t the gods be kinder to those who genuinely deserved it?

Rhaella continues to weep and I think it is because the gardens are secluded, not even Varys birds are here.

“Someone just recently told me that it is alright to cry, that I deserved it. You deserve this too, Rhaella. Cry, weep, I shall be here.”

* * *

Rhaella weeps and weeps, decades of pain and abuse bubbling to the surface and I hold her in my arms, rocking her like I do my own children, my hands gentle over the still healing bruises on her, not just the physical ones but also emotional and mental ones.

The gods are not fair, but it is up to us to seek our own justice in this world.

* * *

“I do not wish to be housed in Maegor’s Holdfast, _please_ , do not make me stay there.” Rhaella begs after her tears are dried.

“Of course not, Lord Tywin has been kind enough to offer rooms in the Tower of the Hand, or you may even stay at one of the manses in the city, the choice is yours.”

Because how many choices did Rhaella even get after she was forced to marry Aerys?

“Thank you,” she breathed out.

I feel guilty, that this woman is thanking me for common decency when she is aiding and abetting me stealing her son’s crown. But what is there to say in the face to Rhaegar’s actions?

Nothing.

* * *

While I had not met Rhaella in the throne room, I do not make that same decision when Robert Baratheon comes to King’s Landing. I put on my finest gowns and my sun circlet, wearing my black snake armlet and gold bracelets.

I looked every inch the queen as I sit on the Iron Throne, as Robert Baratheon, Jon Arryn and Ned Stark are brought before the throne.

“Her Grace, Elia of House Nymeros Martell, the First of Her Name,” the seneschal called out. It always felt more real when I heard my name called out loud.

I may sit on the throne, I may have the allies, but until Rhaegar and Robert are dealt with, they will remain a threat to me and mine.

“Cousin Robert, I had wished to see you under better circumstances but alas, the gods will this to be so. The letter I wrote to you, I spoke true. Please, I welcome you and your friends. Let us go and have some wine, so that we might discuss the matter we both hold close to our hearts.”

Robert looks furious, not at me, thank god but at the situation as a whole. This isn’t the man who thought he waged a war for his kidnapped betrothed – this is a man who has been led by the nose and he wants the truth.

“Where is Lyanna, my sister?” The court quietens at the new Lord Stark’s words because everyone has been party to the last few days of Lyanna’s arrival and her miscarriage.

“Please, let us discuss this matter in private.” I step down from the throne, mindful of my steps and Jaime is waiting for me, his arm already out to escort me and we fall in step together, in sync as we make our way out of the throne room, with our guards escorting the rebels.

I debate on whether I should lead them to Lyanna first or maybe the council chamber, but I figured they would need to see it to believe it.

The trek is not long and we across Whent and Dayne, “stand aside, your duty to your lady is no longer needed. Ser Tygett, Ser Lewyn, please escort these fine knights to rooms and keep them under lock and key.”

I wanted to throw them in the black cells, but I still had use for them, maybe.

Ned Stark can assign his own damn men to protect his sister, as far as I’m concerned. I open the door and Jaime and I step aside to allow Robert and Ned to walk towards Lyanna who is still laying in bed, her round but empty stomach still visible to the eye.

“Oh, Ned!” I watched Lyanna cry out.

“He raped her!” Jaime and I look unimpressed at Robert’s accusation because Rhaegar is many things, but a rapist is not one of them.

“No dear cousin, I spoke true in my letter. Tell him the truth Lady Targaryen, it is what he deserves.”

Am I a hypocrite for wanting Lyanna to tell the truth, while I scheme and lie in the shadows? Maybe so, but I make no secret about what I am and who I made myself to be.

Lyanna could be chivalrous for Howland Reed because he was her “father’s man” but she couldn’t extend that same attitude to Robert who was Ned’s foster brother.

“What is the meaning of this?” Ned looks as flabbergasted as Robert.

Poor man.

“I…we were in love, I…he asked me to marry him and I said yes,” her voice trembles and I want to roll my eyes, but I don’t instead I lean into Jaime, burrowing against his warmth as we watch this scene playout.

Ned Stark rears back his head as though he has been slapped and I watch him turn his face away as he draw a weary hand over his face, his shoulders slumped in defeat.

God, maybe I could hire a couple of actors and write my own soap opera of Westeros, ‘Days of Our Lives’, ‘General Hospital’ or even the classic ‘Young and the Restless’ pale compared to all the bullshit that happens in this world.

 _Actually_ , that wouldn’t be a bad idea and I could raise money doing so by selling tickets…it could be a weekly show, sell some food while people sit and watch and tax it, so some gold comes to the royal treasury.

Out of the corner of my eye I can see the way Jon Arryn watches Jaime and I and I bet he is plotting on how he can rearrange this to his liking.

“I have the letters from the Septon Farlen who annulled my marriage and the High Septon Pater is upholding it. House Nymeros Martell has been insulted one times too many, not just by Aerys but Rhaegar and our grievances are long. House Nymeros Martell and the Iron Throne has already worked out agreements with House Targaryen, as Lady Rhaella who is now the Lady Regent of Dragonstone for Viserys until he comes of age, has offered Summerhall and Rhaegar to the Crown to be dealt with as I see fit. We have also been aggrieved by House Stark, but I have already made my terms known to Lady Targaryen.”

“Just what are those terms,” Jon Arryn asks, as Robert stands far away from Lyanna and Ned, his eyes far off into the distance as though the man is not in this very room.

“Lady Targaryen is to remain in the North until the end of her days, should she trespass and venture one toe out of line, I will have her executed. Because I am a god-fearing woman, her marriage to Rhaegar shall remain, I have no need to be cursed, for this realm cannot handle anymore broken betrothals or marriages. House Stark will also send Benjen Stark to the capital, where he will squire under my betrothed, Ser Jaime. I will allow him to return home for a week – once a year and when he is done squiring, he shall be in service to House Nymeros Martell and the Crown until the end of his days.”

“What, you did not mention that before!” Lyanna tried to sit up from her bed but she whimpered out in pain.

“Your brother aided and abetted you when you rode as the Knight of the Laughing Tree. Aerys called for your head that day, I did not forget that. Many choices – ignorant choices – were made that day and I shall see to it that it is paid.”

“A Lannister pays their debt,” Jaime quips in, as he leans against the wall with me leaning into him.

“Please, let us speak calmly,” Ned tries to bargain between us.

“I am calm, Lord Stark. Be grateful I am not taking your newborn son from Riverrun; I find no reason why your innocent son should pay for the sins of an aunt he doesn’t even know. I am a mother and I know Lady Catelyn would be most distraught, just like I, if someone took my babes away. That almost happened with the auctions Lady Targaryen and her husband brought upon this realm, but the gods have been merciful where before they weren’t.”

I probably could take Robb as a hostage, but it shall be seen as a mercy of a fellow mother not willing to separate a child from his mother.

“But she is only six and ten! She didn’t know,” before Ned Stark can continue, I cut him off, reminding myself that this isn’t the modern age and the rules of society are much different though I shall be changing them soon enough.

“Yet Lady Rhaella was three and ten when she did her duty to House Targaryen. Are you telling me that your sister has less sense than a three and ten-year-old? That the letters I found hidden that detailed her love for Rhaegar was nothing more than silly words? Are you telling me, that your own father and brother died, because she didn’t _know_ better? Do not insult my intelligence, please I beg you.”

I’m not letting up on this matter, she doesn’t get to help throw gasoline onto the realm and not help put out the fire. The people want the blame to be placed and putting targets on Aerys, Rhaegar and Lyanna is easy enough to do. There will be no love story about Rhaegar and Lyanna, they will be a cautionary tales of what happens when you listen to the sweet nothings of married men and think like a moron.

“I do not know what I did to deserve this. I love you, Lyanna.” It is the first time that Robert has spoken in a while.

“You don’t know love, you barely even know me,” Lyanna states as she winces in residual pain.

“Oh, I suppose you know my cousin, so fucking well as you hid away together?!” Robert left the room, storming out and I only looked at the Stark siblings before following out, wanting to catch up with Robert.

I glanced at Jon Arryn, throwing up an eyebrow, as he watched his foster-sons’ relationship die before his very eyes.

* * *

“Robert, please, wait!”

I am grateful that the tall man does stop, but I can see the rage in his eyes and watch his clench fists with caution.

“I do not know where it all went wrong, I thought…” He shakes his head, trying to dislodge whatever thoughts are ill-fitting to him.

“I know, believe me I know. Thinking yourself good enough and finding out that the person you love, does not believe you to be. I get that, but do not let this, let _them_ define you. You are young and hale; this is only a setback, but you can still comeback from this.”

“How’s that? I’m an embarrassment, I’ve been cuckolded, or at least damn near! The woman I thought kidnapped and raped, is married to my cousin, who was married to you!”

I can feel Jaime’s gaze on my back as I walk towards Robert, my steps careful as though I may frighten him, but I can see the storm brewing in his blue eyes.

“I find that proving people wrong is a powerful tool of motivation. Aerys and Rhaegar thought nothing of me and look at me now? Each time I went to the birthing bed, I fought back death and escaped the clutches of the Stranger. Prove them wrong Robert, I know this is perhaps too soon, but I know you do not care much for ruling. Many changes will be happening throughout the realm in the coming moons and even years.”

My voice trails off, but Robert is watching me intensely, “Ser Gerion Lannister is an adventurer, I want to start a crew, specifically for the Crown that would go about exploring, from King’s Landing all the way to the Shadowlands, there is much information out there to be learned, to be brought back so that we can better educate ourselves to improve ourselves.”

I figured a man like Robert, who hates ruling would not want to remain cooped up in some castle, in the books he wanted to start his own sellsword company and fuck his way through Essos… _well_ …it worked for Oberyn.

“I’m listening… _cousin_.”

The storm clouds in his eyes are still there, but the fury, it has been calmed some.

I can work with this.

* * *

I’ve received a letter from Starfall a few days ago of Ashara having a miscarriage and I threw the letter in the fire when after I read it.

Starks, dead or alive, it matters not because they bring trouble wherever they go.

I write back to Ashara telling her to come to King’s Landing when she has recovered. I tell her brother, Lord Gerion Dayne, to not let news of her miscarriage get out, lest it ruins any betrothals I may make for her.

I do not need her flinging herself off a cliff any time soon.

* * *

The council chamber is quite busy as more seats are filled, the rebels have put down their arms and for that I am glad.

Jon Arryn has worked whatever magic because Ned Stark has agreed to my terms, but it is clear that Robert is still struggling with the betrayal because he has separated himself from Ned.

Maybe in this life he will be closer to Stannis, a brother of blood who is more loyal than even the finest bloodhound.

I can hope.

* * *

Viserys had been happy to play again with Rhaenys and Balerion, he is not the troubled child Ryan had read who descended into madness after he sold his mother’s crown.

I have multiple healers and Grand Maester Pycelle on hand who shall see Rhaella safely through childbirth, hopefully she will feel unburdened knowing her husband is dead and that her son is returning soon enough.

It would be a shame for the woman to finally get some peace, some happiness and then die so soon afterwards.

Mercy is not for everyone, but Rhaella is one of the few who deserves it – unquestionably.

* * *

With the rebel forces combined with my allies; Rhaegar and the remainder of the loyalist are met with a force that can easily murder them four to one.

A smart man would not take the chance, and for all that Rhaegar is a fucking fool, even a broken clock is right twice a day.

* * *

This is the moment that I’ve been waiting for, the excitement hums through my body and I feel so alive, my magic is like electricity, flowing through me in response.

My eyes are vibrant as I brush my hair, making my curls shine before I grab the comb and split my hair apart so that I could make three braids; one braid going straight in the middle and two on each side of my face with little gold bangles being attached to them.

I begin singing, “Don’t Hurt Yourself” by Beyoncé under my breath, as I apply kohl around my eyes, liking the way it enhances my onyx eyes even more, before applying some apricot lip balm. 

The gown I am wearing is blood red, with gold feathered shoulders and I know Jaime will be quite pleased to see me in his colors.

Last night, I met with the royal jeweler for Jaime and I’s crowns that will be bestowed upon us when we wed. The sketch I had for them would showcase both our houses and our union and I’m eager to see how they turn out.

“Your Grace, here is your gown,” Myria calls out.

“It’s just Elia, when we are alone cousin.” She smiles at my response before helping me undress, staring in surprise at my lingerie.

Well, I wasn’t going to walk around with heavy dresses all day every day.

“Who made these?”

“I did while I was on Dragonstone alone, I figure it gives me more air and I am able to breath a bit better without so many clothes on.”

“Perhaps you should think about selling these, in Dorne this would be very popular given the heat.” Myria comments as she pulls the gown up my body, helping tie the laces on the back.

“I think I will, I’ve been thinking of ideas to get more money in the treasury. I suppose this could be used in brothels, so that the women do not have to walk around naked but not fully clothed either.”

I have so many ideas to slowly revolutionize this world and implement modern ideas, I wonder how this world will look once I am done with it.

“How do I look?” I turn and face my cousin.

“Like Nymeria reborn.”

Just one more step and it is mine.

* * *

Sitting on the Iron Throne is not hard and Aegon the Conqueror was right when he said a king should not sit easy, I often find myself restless, always wanting to do more but there’s been one problem that still remains and I stare down from the throne as I face it, face him.

“Rhaegar Targaryen, you stand in the presence of Her Grace, Queen Elia of House Nymeros Martell, First of Her Name. Queen of the Andals and the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lady of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm”.

Once again, I find myself wondering how this all looks, what does it look like to Rhaegar, Jon Connington and remaining Kingsguard to see me on the throne. What does it look like to see Lord Tywin and Ser Jaime right below me, Jaime out of his white cloak and into his house colors, of Rhaella standing by the Iron Throne with Lord Lucerys, of Robert, Ned Stark and Jon Arryn standing on my side, of even Lord Varys who is closer to the throne than he had been under Aerys.

 _What_ does it look like? Oh, I wish I could astral project outside of my body and see this for myself. What does it look like to see _everyone_ united against _you_?

“Rhaegar Targaryen, you stand before Her Grace to answer to your crimes of inciting a rebellion, of treason against the crown, and dereliction of duty, how do you plead?”

Lord Tywin and I have been pouring over the texts to find something to throw against Rhaegar and these were the only three charges, but inadvertently Rhaegar did help incite a rebellion when he left his station as Prince of Dragonstone to take up with Lyanna. The treason comes from him trying to supplant my children from their birthrights and that was what I was truly pissed about.

Jon Connington looked red in the face as he stepped forward, “this is preposterous!”

I cluck my tongue silently, before nodding to Ser Sandor Clegane, the young knight obviously happy to be out of from his brother’s thumb. I’ll be killing that monster soon enough, though I am happy that Tywin left his dog in his kennel in the west.

Jon Connington was dragged out, screaming actually and I found his actions pathetic because no matter how much he tried to defend his silver prince, Rhaegar wasn’t going to bend him over and fuck him.

Rhaegar seems just as confused before he says, “I do not understand these charges, mother…Elia, what is going on?”

It’s a fucking hostile takeover dude, a beautiful coup d'état, by yours truly.

“By forsaking your duty as Prince of Dragonstone, when Brandon Stark arrived in King’s Landing looking for his sister, he was brought before the king and held in the black cells while his men were slaughtered. When Lord Rickard Stark came for his son _and_ daughter, he was then lowered into fire as Brandon Stark killed himself trying to free his father. For that year you remained hidden, in Dorne, annulling your marriage to me and married Lady Lyanna Stark in secret, we have Septon Farlen’s diary, as proof. For a year you led the realm to believe the now Lady Targaryen had been raped and kidnapped, only she was not. In accordance to this false belief, Lord Arryn, as the foster-father to Lord Robert Baratheon and Lord Eddard Stark raised his banners in their defense when your father called for their heads – thus setting off the rebellion.”

I spoke clearly with a hint of steel in my voice and eyes as I continued, “by annulling our marriage, you thought to steal my children’s birthrights and leave them destitute, or mayhaps you thought to kill me and my children since you got your new lady wife pregnant, I know not. I only know that I was left to the abuses of your father while you were away. I cannot say to know your character, not anymore. The lords of this realm see fit to strip you of your princely titles, since you so obviously care not for being a prince of this realm and taking care of the duties that come with being one, and I am in agreeance with them.”

I turn my attention to the knights of the Kingsguard who arrived with Rhaegar, “You all swore vows to your king, yet you were not here when he died and needed your protection. I find the Kingsguard to be lacking, in more ways than one. When you were all gone there was only one of you who remained, only one of you who remembered the vows of his knighthood before his Kingsguard vows, when the late king himself thought to throw my son into a cauldron of wildfire. I find you all to be lacking and I hereby disband the Kingsguard and hereby implement the Royalguard. No more shall members of the royal household be abused and men that are sworn knights do nothing but stand and watch. For those who wish to redeem yourselves, kneel now and seek absolution for your crimes of inaction and dereliction of duty and honor.”

Leaning back onto my throne I inhale deeply before exhaling, watching one by one as the knights kneel, even my uncle Lewyn.

“Starting here and now, you shall uphold your vows of knighthood, no more shall such abandonment be forgiven for lack of duty and honor. Those who cannot comply can meet the Warrior and Stranger.”

Yeah, you all better get in tip top shape or it'll be your head in the guillotine.

I let that sit in the air before I gather myself, “I am a kind and merciful queen. For your transgressions not just against House Nymeros Martell but also against the realm, I sentence you Rhaegar Targaryen to be a prisoner of the Crown. You shall be transferred to Hellholt, where you will live by my own grace of mercy.”

I can hear gasps ring out and I want to let out a cackle as I watch the stricken look that comes across some loyalists’ faces.

“Lord Harmen Uller, cousin, I leave my prisoner in your hands. I thank you for your service not just to the Crown but also to House Martell.”

Harmen Uller looks absolutely gleeful as he bows his head, before ordering his men to capture Rhaegar so that he may be held under guard.

“Lord Anders Yronwood, for the loyalty and honor shown by you and your house, I grant your house the title of ‘Knights of the Green Hills’. May we continue to share this peace and abundance of honor and loyalty.”

The title of ‘Master of the Green Hills’ is an old title that’s been defunct since Princess Nymeria united Dorne, and I wouldn’t give it back to them, but I will give them a new title for it.

“Thank you, Your Grace. We Guard the Way, now and always.”

I nod my head sagely as I step down the Iron Throne, my gown trailing behind, and I am glad to see that Harmen held Rhaegar in the back of the throne room, allowing the focus to be on me and my next announcement.

I actually allowed a smile to sit on my face as I spoke, “in my most dire hour of need, a knight put his white cloak upon my shoulders in protection, before offering me the cloak of his house. Ser Jaime Lannister has shown me that there are still knights made from songs, and after giving Lord Tywin back his heir after he too has been held hostage, I am proud to announce the betrothal of Ser Jaime and I, where we will be crowned Queen and Prince Consort of the Seven Kingdoms. My brother, Prince Oberyn shall wed the Lady Cersei and thus join our houses like our mother’s wished when we were young.”

The cheers of the crowd were drowning, and it pleased me that it drowned out Rhaegar’s yells.

* * *

I make my way to the Dornish encampment within the city, smiling and waving as the Dornish celebrate having another queen on the throne.

I did not want Rhaegar left in the Red Keep, lest someone try to help him, instead he is locked away in a room and I enter as his back is partial turned to me.

“You should have paid better attention to what was in front of you instead of prophecies. There’s a saying: ‘Don’t go chasing waterfalls, please stick to the rivers and lakes that you’re used to.’ It is a warning of to big dreamers and what happens to them should they reach higher than their aim allows them to. You reached too far Rhaegar.”

“You don’t understand, I did this _because_ of my duty,” he turns to me, his eyes wide as he begs me to understand.

_As if._

“No, you thought yourself some god, a god who thinks his cum is the greatest thing to be given to the first idiot who believes it to be so too. But fear not Rhaegar, your lady wife shall live, back in the North. She will bear her shame for all to see, while you rot away just like Rhaenys when she was shot down from the sky.”

“Elia, you must understand!” He reaches for me and I immediately throw up my hands, stopping him as his limbs move against his will.

“You _should_ have regarded me more than you did your prophecies, more than you did your wolf. But worry not, I shall write my own songs, I never cared much for your harp anyway.”

His eyes are still wide as he watches me as I finally release him, causing him to fall on the floor, “I do not understand.”

“No, you never bothered to. You only saw what you wanted to see, that is your mistake, not mine. You judged me and discarded me the moment the maester delivered Aegon. You threw them away, you threw us away, you threw me away. You sought to rob my children, to rob me of everything and you thought I will allow you to do so? I am not a god, but I know what it means to exact my vengeance.”

“Elia, please,” he cries out, but I leave him on the floor and exit his room.

I’ll not waste another moment of my time for pathetic men, I have a wedding and coronation to plan.   
  


Posted: 08/31/2020

Edited: 08/31/2020

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gif from https://dsoredit.tumblr.com/
> 
> This past week has been writing galore lmao.


	4. Ascension

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Long may she reign.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Birds flying high, you know how I feel  
> Sun in the sky, you know how I feel  
> Breeze driftin' on by, you know how I feel
> 
> It's a new dawn  
> It's a new day  
> It's a new life for me, yeah  
> It's a new dawn  
> It's a new day  
> It's a new life for me, ooh  
> And I'm feeling good."  
> -Feeling Good by Nina Simone

“In politics, my dear fellow, you know, as well as I do, there are no men, but ideas — no feelings, but interests; in politics we do not kill a man, we only remove an obstacle, that is all.”

-Alexandre Dumas, The Count of Monte Cristo

After Rhaegar faced justice, the weeks following passed by quickly, with servants and maids alike preparing for the wedding and coronation.

I did not want to have thirteen courses at my wedding feast, and neither did Jaime; and considering the realm is still reeling back from war, there is no need to be wasteful with resources. This was to also lead off the wedding of my brother and Cersei, who had arrived in the capital just last week.

She wasn’t as bitchy as her other counterparts, but after I spoke to her and told her about the plans to be made for Castamere, she seemed more eager to wed; it helped that my brother was a second son and that he was Dornish, meaning he was more than willing to let Cersei rule – which she was. The bonus of Oberyn willing to teach her poisons and put a spear in her hand, only made her happier at her betrothal.

I couldn’t make everyone happy, but I could make myself happy. The Reach had laid down their arms, especially to the fact that Dorne and the Stormlands are allied and if they didn’t get in line, they would find themselves isolated from the rest of the realm.

Oh, I am sure Olenna Tyrell is sitting in her gardens, eating dried prunes as she thinks of ways to get her family in favor with mine, I’m sure she’ll seek me out at the wedding feast, no doubt not willing to entrust her oaf of a son to politic with me, not after I blindsided everyone and took the throne for myself.

I’ve spent much time with my ladies, getting measurements done for my wedding gown, and I was going against the grain by wearing a pale yellow-blue gown, the colors of the sun and sea drowning against one another in contrast to what my crown would look like.

On the other hand, I tasked Varys with using his birds to find singers, singers that I could permanently employ at court to sing the songs I wanted to hear, and not the boring shit that Westeros liked to hear.

I was waiting in the empty dance hall for Jaime as my newly acquired band was waiting with their instruments, I had written down lyrics for the singers to sing, making sure they caught the right tone in some of the songs.

Ryan had never expected to be married, and Elia did not marry out of love – I figured if I was going to do it, I may as well go all the way.

When Jaime finally arrives, I greet him, “Jaime, good, you’re hear. I figured we could practice our dances for the wedding.”

He stares at the band, his blonde curls mussed on top of his head as he shrugs his shoulders, “my father did say this wedding should showcase the might of our houses. I can tell you’ve put much thought into this.”

I walk towards him, grabbing his hands and I pull him forward, smiling, “well, I figured after everything we went through, we deserve this. You’ve been very good to me, to my children, I just want to express my thanks.”

It was the truth, Jaime has been very good to me, to playing with Rhaenys as she chases Balerion, to taking care with Viserys as he soaks up a paternal and fraternal influence and the same can be said for Aegon.

I am not one to forget my allies or friends and Jaime is my staunchest.

“It’s nothing,” he shuffles on his feet, nervously.

Oh, how cute, I make him flustered. Well that’s two of us.

“It’s everything,” I whispered.

Before we both cause more gossip about our behavior, I look towards the band and nod my head for them to begin playing the music.

I press myself against his body, his hand in mine while his other hand immediately goes to the arch in my back. I look up at him and speak again, “dance with me.”

* * *

Rhaegar was still being held in the Dornish encampment and he would find no loyalty amongst them. Dorne was given to the Targaryens with the marriage of Daenerys Targaryen and Maron Martell alongside Daeron Targaryen and Myriah Martell. The accord that had been made between not just the houses, but Iron Throne had been spat upon by Rhaegar and Dorne’s history was long, they’d not forgive and forget.

I allowed for Rhaella and Viserys to see Rhaegar one last time, with one of Varys’ bird reporting back to me what was said. Nothing more than Rhaella berating Rhaegar for allowing their house to fall and for not deposing his father.

I like Rhaella and I pitied her, but Varys and I will have all kinds of birds fluttering around Dragonstone to make sure Viserys is not poisoned against me, his niece and nephew.

I had Jon Connington thrown into the black cells when he would not swear his fealty to the Crown and he was set to be discreetly executed, with the Crown taking nine-tenths of the lands owed by House Connington and splitting it between Crow’s Nest and Storm’s End. I followed Robert Baratheon’s example in the books by decimating House Connington, taking away their lordship and a great portion of their wealth. It makes for better protection for Summerhall, which will begin it’s reconstruction at the year’s end.

Jon Connington’s cousin, Ronald Connington proved to be smarter than his fellow red head and bent the knee, lest he finds a visit from Robert’s Warhammer or Oberyn's poisoned spear.

Robert Baratheon seemed eager to my plans of a special team being created to travel through Essos and collect information to be brought back to Westeros, information that could not be gathered by Varys’ spies though the two groups would work in tandem.

Men feel restless after war and so I am giving the lot of them something to do, to keep them going and not fall into stasis. Men like Robert live for the thrill of the hunt and kill and while Tywin may have his loyal hounds, I shall have my own stag guarding my interests.

Ole’ Teddy had spoke true when he said to speak softly and carry a big stick.

* * *

Ashara arrived in King’s Landing just a few weeks before the wedding, pregnant stomach deflated and showing no signs that she was ever pregnant from the beginning.

I welcome her with open arms, hugging her as I lean back away from her, analyzing her before speaking, “how are you, my friend?”

I know the lie before she speaks it, “I am well. You’ve done the impossible.” I watch as she stares around the throne room in awe, glad there is no madmen sitting on the throne any longer.

“I only did what I did out of desperation and survival for not just myself but for my children. Tell me, whose was it?”

I did not know the truth of what happened at the Tourney of Harrenhal and I wished to know now, I needed to further secure alliances and I needed to make sure Ashara was alright before I did so.

“She was Brandon’s,” as all she says with her head bowed.

Starks, fucking Starks. It was too bad the child had not been a son, for while a girl wouldn’t be bad, putting a half Dornish Stark in Winterfell to succeed his father would have been nice, but alas – dead babes hold no worth.

“I am sorry for your loss,” I murmur to her.

She nods her head before raising her head, “nothing would have come from it. I would have raised my daughter in Dorne and live on my brother’s grace or remarry and leave my daughter behind. Maybe it’s kinder this way.”

I notice that she doesn’t sound sure, but I hum softy anyway because I am not sure either.

“People know you are my most trusted lady outside of my cousin – Myria. There has already been some interests made for you, it was a good choice to keep your status in the air, as I did send my retinue away before I arrived in King’s Landing at Aerys’ order.”

We begin walking out of the throne room before she asks, “who?”

“Addam Marbrand for one, a good and kind fellow but the West is too far. I had in mind, Stannis Baratheon. It seems my dear cousin, Robert is not willing to put down his roots and is passing the lordship to his brother as he swears himself to service to the Crown. You would be the Lady of Storm’s End; you would be close to the capital just across the waters and you would be near Summerhall. Your children and my Egg shall be close and keep the peace in the marches.”

Addam was a handsome fellow and a childhood friend of Jaime, but I needed the Baratheons more than the West, especially since the West is getting two marriages in return. I need to award my allies.

Ashara and I make our way towards Maegor’s Holdfast, “Stannis, he is the quiet brother, yes?”

I nod my head in agreement, “yes, some say he is dour, but I think he is a man who knows his duty and strives to do the best as he can. While Robert was fighting, it was Stannis who held Storm’s End and cared for their younger brother, Renly. Stannis does not has his elder brother’s charisma, but you do.”

I am trying to sell this marriage, I don’t need to when Gerion Dayne has given me permission to act in his interests concerning his sister, but I want Ashara to see the good qualities of Stannis. He is not the man burdened by an unwanted castle and people who do not love him. He can still win their favor, especially with Ashara by his side. This way, Stannis will be able to step out of Robert’s shadow and be his own man.

“I would like to meet him, speak with him,” she finally answers.

“Good, he shall be arriving for the wedding. I am already having Robert’s bastard, Mya Stone brought from the Vale. She shall grow up with my Rhaenys, a loyal cousin and friend to be had.”

“Alright, Elia. Thank you.”

* * *

Benjen Stark still remains in the North to hold Winterfell, but the moment Ned and his sister leave and arrive home, the boy shall be sent south.

It is a terrible thing for the innocents to pay for the misdeeds and crimes of others, but the debt must be paid altogether.

* * *

My days are evenly divided between preparations for the wedding, holding council meetings and spending my evening and nights with my children and Jaime.

It is a routine that works well, allowing my children to adapt to Jaime and for him and I to enjoy one another without prying eyes or gossiping mouths that seem surprised when Jaime and I share kisses and gentle touches.

I have many things to hide, but this is certainly not one of them.

* * *

I’ve worked so hard, so tirelessly, so relentlessly for this moment and finally I can bask in it, I can finally enjoy the taste on my tongue as though it is the finest vintage wine.

Killing Aerys was nothing compared to this.

Bringing Lyanna and Rhaegar to justice was nothing but a speck on the radar compared to this.

As I stand just outside the large interior golden doors in the Great Sept of Baelor, my heart is beating as my arms are joined with Doran’s.

“Let us hope the Young Lion proves himself more worthy than the Last Dragon,” my brother’s states as we both begin to hear music play.

I’m defensive when I say, “second time’s the charm, dear brother. Don’t you worry about me, Jaime has proven himself to be a man with quite the valor.”

Jaime _has_ proven himself to me and keeping proving himself every day, I do not want him to be doubted – he’s already done more than Rhaegar ever has and while the bar is low in that regard, Jaime is still leagues above what I expected.

He’s tried and true, put through the fire just like I and we both came out stronger for it. There is no room for doubt. Every step we take forward is in union, that much I am sure of.

My brother nods his head and I squeeze his arm, “thank you for walking me down the aisle. You are a better brother than a sister could ask for.”

That was an understatement, Doran had sent ten thousand men to the Trident in canon because Aerys held Elia hostage. Dorne had suffered for it, had continued to suffer with the breakdown of his marriage, with the estrangement from his daughter and with the rest of Dorne still hungering for blood and vengeance.

Good men surround me, and I won’t let them forget that, even if they have no knowledge of those deeds. It is enough that I know. 

“Are you ready, sweet sister?”

* * *

My gown is a beautiful blend of the sky and sea, mixing with the sun as my yellow cloak trails behinds me.

I had did my hair differently, having it formed in a long braid, just like Princess Nymeria of Ny Sar. My ladies had applied apricot and cherry lip balm to my full lips, staining them in a nice color that that enhances the fullness of them. The jewelry I’m wearing is simple in nature, as my ring finger is bare though my right index finger has ring on it shaped in the sun.

As we make our way down the aisle, everyone stands, and I keep my focus straight ahead on Jaime who stands on top of the dais in his own attire. He looks dashing, the kind of knight that women dream of to rescue them from trapped towers.

He is mine though; now, and always.

I’ll keep him as he’ll keep me.

When Doran shifts my hand into Jaime’s I barely recognize it because we have held hands many times, I know the trace of his fingers, the callouses on his palm. I know his touch.

His cat-green eyes stare into my obsidian ones and I barely hear the High Septon as he begins.

* * *

An acolyte steps forward with our crowns on a velvet pillow, their mirrors of one another but one feminine and the other masculine.

Each crown has suns, spears, and lion heads on them, with a larger sun in the middle of my crown, and a larger lion head on Jaime’s.

Our rings are also mirrors of one another, mine with one large diamond on a gold and silver band, while Jaime has small diamonds placed throughout his band.

Exchanging rings happens first, but Jaime puts my crown on top of my head, and I enjoy the weight of it.

It must have come as a surprise to our audience when I grab Jaime’s crown and reach forward and place it upon his golden head.

He is the one I chose; I will have no other.

* * *

Our kiss is soft and probably lingers too long on the right side of propriety but when we pull away from each other, Jaime’s smile is matching my own.

* * *

“Let it be known that Jaime of House Lannister, and Elia of House Nymeros Martell, are one heart, one flesh, one soul. Cursed be he who would seek to tear them asunder. Long may they reign.”

* * *

The feast is impeccable as conversation and laughter rings out throughout the great hall. I had been correct when I speculated that Olenna Tyrell would seek me out, she wants a royal match and she knows that Rhaenys and Aegon are far out of her reach. The best she can do is for any children that will come after them, a son, or a daughter to further bind the Tyrells to my cause, including the threat to their borders.

She tips her head to me and I wonder if she regrets bypassing her marriage to her Targaryen prince. She could have maneuvered like I did, and it would be a child of her or even grandchild on the Iron Throne.

Manipulating plans is all well and good, but it helps to be on the ground and make those moves for yourself.

* * *

When Jaime pulls me onto the dance floor, the familiar beat of, “This World Is Mine” begins to play.

Ryan’s parents had loved this song and had danced many nights to it. I can tell that people are confused by the song, wondering where it came from and want to chalk it up to it being a Dornish tune, but even the Dornish look confused.

Our eyes are only for each other when he says, “I see you finally added lyrics.”

Indeed, I did, I had found a good two good singers from Fleabottom, both with powerful voices and they had been more than happy to be in my service.

“Well, it is _ours_ , I see no reason to not let everyone else know.”

He spins me around just like he did in the shadow of the night when we had no music but my humming, but this time his laugh accompanies us.

* * *

Two lives ended before they even began, but the board had been reset, the pieces that had been taken had been returned. 

I played, and I did what I set out to do:

I won. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, my first crack fic is completed and I can say I thoroughly enjoyed it. I had thought to add smut, but I'm tired of smut, ASP has it so if you want that, you can read that lol. I just wanted to finish this cause I got some psyc. statistics hw to do and I wanted to complete this before I began. 
> 
> I won't be coming back to this fic or doing any sequels. I know you guys might wish for a Lyanna, Ned, or even a Rhaegar POV but like...no. LMAO. I really don't give a fuck about Lyanna or Rhaegar and I do not have the patience or mindspace to even try to get into their heads, so I'm not even gonna bother with that. I'm sorry, but no. <3.
> 
> On the other hand, I'm a busy gal. I'll be working full-time as a teacher, a full-time graduate student and studying for state exams and moving out at the end of the year, so my writing schedule now is questionable. I'll more than likely write during Thanksgiving break, Winter Break, Spring Break and Summer Break. I know myself and after a stressful day, I ain't gonna want to sit down in write, especially since I'll be writing academic papers (which I totally love, cause psychology is so much fun to me, but I don't want a burn out in either my academia or leisure writing) and I know I'll just want to play the sims 3, or cities skylines or even anno1800 when the day is done, so yeah. 
> 
> The summer has officially ended and I am quite pleased a finished my 6 months ASP fic and now this mini fic. Didn't think I'd be able to do it, but I did, so go me. 
> 
> Well, until next time folks.
> 
> Stay safe and be well.

**Author's Note:**

> This fic's pintrest: https://pin.it/1xRXTFr  
> my tumblr for ao3 and Elia & House Martell in general: https://lostchildofthenewworld.tumblr.com/
> 
> Elia Martell: Bruna Marquezine  
> Jaime Lannister: Toby Regbo


End file.
